A Very Devoted Neighbor
by Zetsubel
Summary: "Sam's suppose to save the planet? This Sam right here? He can't even grow a mustache yet." Eventual BumblebeexHuman OC. Deviation from the original movie script is minimal. Rated M for language.
1. Chapter 1: Neighbor

First shot at a movie fic. And it has to be Transformers. I mean, come on. It's Transformers. I grew up on Transformers and crushed on Hotshot for years. I was a little disappointed that Hotshot isn't in the movies instead of Bumblebee at first, but apparently Bee is an actual original character that I just didn't remember. Whoops.

The whole first arc, AKA the first movie, is typed in the most basic sense. Now it's just separating all 47 Word pages into chapters and fine-tuning them to fit what I really wanted. So no matter how many reviews I get, it will get finished. That's not to say I don't appreciate feedback... :D Enjoy ya'll.

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><p>Life has always been interesting being neighbors with Samuel Witwicky for the past eleven years. Whenever he drove up in a rusted treasure of a camaro on his last day of school, I knew the universe was aligning the planets for some big trouble. He barely knew how to ride a bike, and that was only because I beat him until he didn't fall off anymore. Kid learned through pain, what can I say?<p>

"Hey, Sam!" I leaned against the shovel I was using to uproot Mom's old dead rosebushes along the fence. His dark head of nearly-gone baby curls turned, and I could see the cheesy sparkle of his teeth from here. Couldn't blame him. I'd be excited, too. "Guess those practice speeches worked out for ya, huh?"

"Yeah, well just barely. A-. Still an A, right, Dad?"

Witwicky Sr. had pulled in behind Sam. He waved as he was getting out with one of those parent laughs that said 'Yeah, you're a lucky little shit'. "Hi, Rach. How's your mom?"

"Fine," I answered, wiping sweat from my brow with the back of one of my dirty yellow work gloves. "Got me doin' her dirty work."

"Manual labor builds character," he said, pointing a finger at Sam as he came up to the fence. "You could learn from some of that."

"Yeah, thanks, Pops. I'll pass."

We watched his dad trod inside, waiting for the door to bang closed before glancing at each other.

"Did you have to beg?" I asked knowingly.

Sam gave me his wide-eyed hurt look. "Faith, Rach, faith. Where's that, huh?"

"Flew out the damn window when you were even trying to convince me to buy those crusty old glasses," I smirked, taking the shovel back in hand and driving it through the ground at the base of the bush stump. "Besides, I know that look. It means you were probably down on your knees kissing her pumps."

"He, and I'll have you know he'd look terrific in pumps."

"Whatever."

That toothy grin was back. "Wanna come see my car?"

I glanced down the fence line at the five holes I still had to fill in and the three more stumps I needed to uproot, then shrugged. "Why the hell not. I'm almost done. Could use a smoke break."

"Oh, uh uh, not around the baby."

Totally ignoring Sam's protests, I fished in the back pocket of my jeans for the pack of Misty blues and lit up, coming around the fence and up their driveway. The camaro was a lot more beat up than I'd first thought, but it could still be a beauty. With, y'know, money.

"Ain't bad for a first car."

"I know, right?" He leaned in the open driver's side window excitedly. "Look, it's not brand new, but it's got a radio, and-"

"A stick shift. How the hell do YOU drive it?" I asked, leaning in the passenger window and eyeing the bumblebee air freshener hanging from the rearview that said 'Bee-otch'. "Aw. That's cute."

"Came with the car," he said quickly.

"Uh huh, sure." I walked around to the front of the car, leaning down to wipe a gloved finger between the bars of the grill. "You wanna wash it before you take it anywhere?"

Sam popped the door open with a clang and slid in. "Is it real bad? I'm not surprised. That guy looked like he just crawled out of a hole in the ground and started slapping prices on things in a junk yard, so."

While I inspected a tire he made sounds like he was rummaging in the glove compartment. It actually wasn't too bad when you looked underneath. Some of the parts looked brand new. I was already dirty, so I laid on my back a little to run my fingertips over a shiny chrome pipe that ran alongside a rusty black one. Do cars shiver or is that just me suffering from heatstroke?

"Oh yeah. You got really lucky with this thing. Dirty, rusty, but still sexy. Sounds like you in a few years. Y'know, when you finally grow facial hair."

"Oh haha, you're a real riot, y'know that?"

"So I've been told." I stood and backtracked to lean through the passenger window again, tapping the disco ball next to the bumblebee. The steering wheel caught my eye. Sam had a crafty look on his face as he stroked an invisible beard.

"So.. You really think I'm sexy?"

I ignored him. "What's that face symbol?"

It centered the steering wheel, a clear little dome with a blue angular face inside. It really didn't go with the color scheme. It looked like something you would see as an insignia for a war MMORPG. Man. I grimaced. I could make myself feel like such a meganerd.

"Huh? Oh, that. I dunno, guess some custom stuff from the previous owner. Probably thought it went with the racing stripes."

"It doesn't."

"Still cool."

"Yeah. Where'd ya'll go for it?"

"That crappy Bolivia's place."

"Like the country…"

"Without the runs. Dad loves me, can you feel it?"

"He's a big softy and you know it," I mumbled, straightening to lean against the roof of the car.

"Yeah, to you. You're a girl."

"Point? Still a girl who could kick your ass. Watch yourself."

"I'm scared, I really am. Listen, I gotta go, me and Miles are hittin' this party at the lake. You wanna go?" He started the engine, which roared like it was dying. Yikes.

"In my dirt and sweat ensemble? I think I'm good. Probably a bunch of high school kids anyway." I sniffed. "I'm above that now."

Sam stared at me through the window. "You - you're serious? You only graduated like a month ago."

I took a long drag on my cigarette and leaned down to blow the smoke at him. "BUT, I can go into strip clubs. You can't. That leaves you like, three rungs below me on the ladder of life." I walked around the back of the car and gave the rusty yellow trunk three pats, yelling over the roar of the engine, "Take good care of Sam, big sexy. Kid can barely walk without help."

"Don't you have some weeds to pull, chico?"

I flipped him off and went back to my garden work. "Racist. Good luck!"

The car's muffler puffed out a plume of black smoke as he backed out.

"… Yeah, you'll need it."

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><p>Two hours later I heard Sam hooting from my kitchen. I stared blearily down at the essays I was typing up for colleges, half-heartedly, I might add. They had to be online colleges or at least an hour away. Who was gonna take care of Mom when I left? Sure as shit not my life-sentenced dad, rotting away in prison for repeated domestic violence felonies. Yeah. Felonies. Because mom never came away with all her bones intact.<p>

I leaned forward a little on the table to see out the window over the sink where I could see him doing some flailing little happy dance up the gravel of his driveway. I shook my head and sat back down. Kids. Pfft. Guess the party went well.

I also noticed how dark it had gotten outside. I glanced at the digital clock on the oven and hummed tiredly. It was almost nine. One more hour, I told myself. Finish this essay, then call it quits.

Things never work out like I plan. An hour and a half and three cigarettes later my eyes were crossing and I had to take a break from staring at the screen. The particular essay I said I would quit after was long finished and being the non-procrastinator I am, I'd started on another one. Yay me.

I heard mom typing away on her computer down the hall in her room, taking online surveys for extra income, and figured it was safe to put on some music. Bringing up a YouTube tab, I had Jem begging me to 'Come on Closer' while I pilfered brownies from tuberware in the fridge. I was safe to dance in my kitchen, seeing as how the only window showed the Witwicky garage with Sam's car beside it A few dance sessions on the Wii could make anyone feel sexy hot. Even stocky little me with too much muscle, too much boob, and not enough neck or hips. Jem's got a sexy as hell voice, let me tell you, especially when she's singing about fornicating. I almost felt like a stripper, but. What stripper shakes her hips in fuzzy pajama pants and flipflops?

I was pouring a glass of milk to go with the brownies when I heard the roar of Sam's camaro engine and backpedaled to look out the window again, milk in one hand, cup in the other. Where the hell was Sam going at almost midnight?

I pushed my glasses back up my nose with a wrist and froze. There was no one in that car from what I could see. They had to be ducked down so as not to be spotted. Had to. Only problem was, as the camaro pulled out of the driveway, the street lights illuminated the front seat for an instant, and…

There was no in it. No hand on the wheel to direct it as it turned left. That… wasn't normal.

I was out the front door watching the tail lights go down the street from the front yard as Sam peeled out of the driveway on his bike, screaming "Nonononono!" at the top of his lungs.

"Sam!" He didn't hear me.

I had a bike. A real bike. A Kawasaki ninja 250R that I had spent every summer working two jobs for since I turned fifteen and was legally allowed to work. It was three years old, pre-owned, but I'd never trade it in because it was my baby and dangit, you wouldn't believe how much more you treasure things when you work for them that hard. Mom didn't have a car - she sold Avon products from the house and did stuff online, and I'd had a part time after school job for three years to help out that I had to walk to. That was extra money for insurance that cost about half as much for a motorcycle as a car. Hurray for plans that actually work.

I grabbed my helmet, keys and wallet, and ran outside in my blue moon pajama pants and old Texas Longhorns tank top, with the pink flipflops to top it off. Insert key, twist, clutch, gas. I did a quick U-turn and followed. He was still on that dingy mountain bike when I caught up. He was screaming into the phone, I guess talking to the cops, though what his father's glamorous title of 'head of the neighborhood watch' had to do with it, I'll never know.

"Get on!" I stopped and shouted.

He dropped the bike, tripped over the curb and banged his forehead on the back of the bike, managed to clamp his arms around my waist and I took off again before he had a chance to get both legs over. He squealed like a little girl, which I was used to at this point, because hey, he always did that.

"Gogogogogo! I can NOT believe my freaking car gets stolen the first night I have it! Who does that? Steals a person's first car?"

Stopping just those few seconds for him to get on had cost time. Whoever was in that car - and a chill ran down my spine when I remembered seeing no one - was flooring it. We followed the tail lights all the way across town, Sam shrieking every time I drifted on a turn - major pansy - all the way to one of the old mill buildings lining the west side of Mission City. Ahead of us, the camaro slowed down, then slammed through an old gate and kept going.

"You're gonna dent it!" Sam screamed. "A-hole!"

"SHIT." I skidded to a stop when a train cut us off. Smart fucking driver. I didn't know why anyone would want a beat up old camaro that much, but to each his own. I was getting pissed off. You not only steal my best guy friend's car, you almost get us hit by a train? Oh hell no.

Sam shouted, "Jump it!"

"Are you fucking kidding me? YOU jump it!"

"AAAAH!" He jumped off the back and stumbled to the rails, jumping around like he was actually thinking about leaping through one of the open cars of the train. I power-walked my bike to lean against rusty barrels that sat against the fence, flipped the visor of my helmet up and followed him across the tracks when the train finally ended.

You ever tried to run across gravel in old flipflops? I don't recommend it. Tiny rocks kept getting stuck between my heels and the flipflops.. "Sam, wait up!"

"He's getting away!"

The first thought running through my mind was that a gang was going around stealing cars for parts and had set up their base of operations in one of the old mill buildings. What was Sam going to do when we did find his car and it was surrounded by thirty crack addicts with big wrenches and power tools? I could take two, maybe three, but that still left roughly twenty-seven to bash our heads in and burn the bodies. With these thoughts in mind, I made a grab for his shoulder to slow him down. "Sam, wait!"

"What?" he panted, stopping to lean his hands on his knees, brows furrowed in irritation. "We gotta catch him before he hides with my car!"

"Sam, why would anyone bring that car to an obvious dead end unless they had back-up hiding somewhere around here? I don't know about you, but I don't feel like getting gang-banged tonight! I just graduated! This is the start of the rest of my life!"

"What would you do if it was YOUR motorcycle?"

"Urm... Prrrobably go on death row for cruel and unusual mass homicide."

He raised his eyebrows at me now. "Wow. You've thought that out, haven't you?"

I thunked the front of my helmet with the heel of one hand. "That's not the point!"

CREEEAK. The loud noise echoed across the mill yard. We straightened and looked around wildly for the source of the noise, then ducked behind a tire-less truck with matching squeaks.

"Is that a fucking robot?" I whispered breathlessly through my helmet.

"Uh huh," he said weakly.

"… Holy hell."

Sure enough, a bigass robot was standing on piping that led to one of the mill's tanks, staring at the sky. All too familiar yellow paneling lined it's legs, head and arms. We stared in awe as it flipped something on it's chestplate and a spot light shot into the sky. It was the same shape as the symbol on the steering wheel. A robot? A robot? He was enormous! The piping under its feet dented as it adjusted so the spotlight shone through the meager clouds in the sky. My mouth worked like a dying fish under my helmet. I didn't quite know what to say. What words could describe seeing a giant robot in your home town? 'Oh fuck, call the cops, Mars is invading'? Because there was no way that thing was from this planet.

We might want to get the fuck out of here now. I punched Sam's shoulder. I tried to punch him anyway. I hit open air and turned wide, stricken eyes down to his crouched form.

"-If you find Busty Beauties under my bed, they're not mine, I'm holding them for Miles. Wait, no, that's a lie, they're mine but Uncle Charles gave them to me and I'm sorry. Mojo, I love you. Mrs. Parker, I didn't mean to get Rachel killed-"

"Oh for the love of God, what're you doing?," I hissed, jerking him away from the truck by his hood. "We need to get the hell out of here before that thing sees us. Now."

Unfortunately God said 'no' that day. As we crouched low and started crawling away from the truck, I looked right.

"Saaam…"

We both stared at the two very big German Shepherds chained to a building that stared right back at us with ears perked and mangled femur bones between their paws. Ouch. Guard dogs. Those teeth marks on their chew toys looked painful.. Sam, idiot that he is, moved his foot. Gravel churned. The dogs snarled. Sam ran.

Fuck the rocks. I tore after him like a bat out of hell with the devil on our heels. Might as well have been. I looked back just in time to see their chains yank right out of the brick wall over the rim of my glasses. Well, SHIT.

"RUN FASTER!" I screamed, arms pumping.

"AHHH! GOOD DOG GOOD DOG!" Sam screamed over his shoulder. Don't think that's working, Sam.

He ducked into a tear in the wall of an old water tower, and I followed. If I didn't, they'd chase the easiest moving target, which would be me, and one dog attack in a life time is enough, thank you. St. Bernard's are bigger, but there was only one of Marlin and he was trying to play. These hellhounds were wanting to play.. with our skulls.

Sam leapt onto an oil drum in the center of the tower and I hoisted myself up with his arm just as the black dog was making a leap for my leg. I admit it. I screamed like a little wuss. The dogs circled, howling and snarling with a little twinkle in their eyes that spelled murder for us.

I clung to Sam's arm, both of us trying to fit in the very center of the drum as it swayed. "You've got a dog, Sam, get down there and sweet talk them!"

"These are not Mojo dogs, okay? You can't punt these across a football field!"

"Then sacrifice yourself for a lady's sake!"

"Chivalry's so dead, Rach! And you got the helmet!"

Since he reminded me, I tore the helmet off, careful of my glasses, and threw it at one of the dogs. If anything it made it angrier. And then the last thing I wanted to see. The camaro barreled through wooden planks in the side.

"It's the demon car!" I screamed.

The dogs disappeared with yipes, but I was so not worried about them anymore. The demon car was circling us now. I actually missed the puppies. Sam dug around his pocket frantically and threw the keys at the car. "Just take the car, I don't want it anymore!"

I wasn't paying much attention. I'd leapt off the barrel and started running when the car made a wide circle around us. I heard the crunch of gravel as Sam jumped off and followed, but we didn't get far outside before a cop car with lights flashing screeched to a stop right before hitting me.

"Ohmigod I'm so glad to see you guys!" I wheezed, clenching a fist in my tanktop.

"HANDS IN THE AIR!" one of the cops commanded, like I'd never spoken.

Oh, fuck me. Now we had guns pulled on us?

"Nonono, the guy's inside!" Sam shouted, coming up beside me with his hands in the air. I threw mine up, too, just in case.

The spotlight blinded me as the younger of the two came around his door with his gun still raised.

"He's the one who called you guys-"

"Shut up! Hands in the air! Come towards the car!"

We obeyed. How could you not with a gun in your face?

"Heads on the hood, now!"

I rested my sweaty forehead on the cold metal with a long-suffering sigh, adrenaline causing me to quiver. How were WE the bad guys? Sam banged his head down beside me.

"You and your wonderful first car..."

"Shut up, Rachel, just shut up."

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><p>"Look I cannot be any clearer on how crystal clear I'm being."<p>

"It just stood up," I mumbled, staring into space and just needing a cigarette. I'd been told, not just no, but 'hell no'.

"Just stood up." The cop with way too much shadow on his jaw, which looked crappy on him by the way, scoffed handed Sam a clear jar and a napkin. Then he offered me the same thing. "Okay, fill her up. No drippy drippy."

I lifted my head from where it rested on my hands. Pale blonde strands were tangled in my fingers where I'd been yanking at it all night in the women's cell. It was pure insanity, sitting there listening to other inmates discuss which county jail had fried chicken and the most comfortable mattresses. Did not want.

"Sir, we're not on drugs."

He snorted at me. He failed at snorting. Sounded like a pig getting tasered. My mom shook her head behind him where she leaned against a file cabinet. Tears streaked her face. I don't think she understood that I was immune to her oversensitivity by then. And I'm not being a bitch, honest. My mom cried about everything.

"You sure? No sauce with the boys? Shootin' up in the mill? Maybe it runs in the family?" That last part was directed at me and my wonderful dad situation.

I met his shit-brown gaze head on. I was so close to assaulting an officer. Just one more remark. Just one. Give me a reason, rent-a-cop.

"We're NOT on drugs," Sam insisted half-heartedly. My leg started bouncing like it always did when I was nervous. I rubbed a hand over my mouth and cleared my throat. Quick note about jail, kiddies. Never use the water fountain. I tried once in the middle of the night and the head bitch about melted my head with the lasers she was shooting with her eyeballs.

"Oh yeah?" The other cop tossed him an orange prescription bottle. "What's these?"

Nice grammar. And Sam gave me grief when my accent showed.

"Mojo," the cop read in a low, mocking tone. "S'at what the kids are doing these days? Little bit of Mooojooo?"

I rubbed the bridge of my nose. You'd like to discover a new drug and get your name in the paper, wouldn't you, spanky?

"Those are my dogs pain pills."

"Y'know, little Chihuahua," Mr. Witwicky cut in, pinching the air to demonstrate.

The cop shook his head, then gave Sam the eye. He grinned and lifted his jacket. "What was that?"

Hm? I lifted my head curiously. Did I miss something?

"What?" Sam asked slowly.

"You eyeballin' my piece, 50 cent?"

Oh. My. God. Strike me now. Just do it.

"No, I wasn't-"

"Oh, you wanna go?"

"Are we in kindergarten?" I muttered under my breath, head falling back into my hands with a sigh.

"You wanna go too, missy? You and your little boyfriend go in the pokey together? Hm? Real romantic, right?"

"Not even funny." Who says 'pokey' anymore?

"She's my neighbor," Sam protested, swallowing nervously.

"Izzat so? Tryin' to show off for your little girlfriend, sonnie? Make something happen, kiddies." The cop leaned in close, looking between us. "I will bust you up."

Sam's eyes darted around before he leaned in and whispered, "Are you on drugs?"

I snort-laughed into my hands, squeezing my eyes shut. This was not happening. "It's a drug called 'machismo', Sam. You wouldn't understand, it's for big kids."

"Rachel Shawn Parker," Mom gasped tearfully.

I ducked my head back down. Sam mirrored the action. We grinned at each other wearily between our fingers before I closed my eyes. My mouth was going to make this a long morning.

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><p>To Be Continued... (In roughly 24 hours).<p> 


	2. Chapter 2: Bumblebee

This one feels kind of rushed... But really, my imagination is going more toward the two years in between the movies. ;D That's when I get to exercise my creativity. And I'm having a hard time following the timeline... So Sam's a junior in the first movie, but the second movie he's going to college. So what, he did his Senior year then took a year off? Am I missing something? I tend to skip over the glaringly obvious. But. Anyway. Here ya go.

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><p>"Mom… I'm not on drugs."<p>

"Then what the hell is going on, Rachel Shawn? Are you sticking up for that Witwicky kid? Huh?"

She slammed a cup, plastic thank God, harder than I thought her skinny little arms ever could down on the kitchen counter. I was sitting in the same chair I always sat in at the table when I was in trouble. It was a ritual dating back to the age of seven. Mom would circle me and scream her lungs out, then go to her bedroom to cry, probably to sleep, and I would pout and sniffle and sneak over to a friend's house to cry. Apple doesn't fall far from the tree, I guess. Family of crybabies.

"Mom, he's not lying, I SAW it. It was standing on top of the mill and shot a beam of light into the air, like some kind of spotlight or something." I spread my arms open towards the ceiling to demonstrate.

I was more worried about my Ninja. It was still stashed behind those barrels, and surely by now someone had noticed it. I prayed not. No way was I telling the cops about it. They'd confiscate it. Whoever found it wouldn't get much out of it, the engine was sputtering a little, but rent comes first.

"I mean, maybe we were seeing things from asbestos in the air or something, but it was THERE. Christ, I'm not a kid anymore making up stories to cover up getting my skateboard run over! I haven't lied to you since I was six and said I ran into a door for Dad! Have some faith, okay?"

Bad move bringing up Brian Parker. Ten minutes of blubbering later my mother was in her room with the door slammed and locked upstairs and I was stalking down the sidewalk to retrieve my bike, green helmet in hand. FYI, sneakers are a lot easier to run in.

On the way home I took the scenic route. It took almost an hour to get there walking. The powers that be must have taken pity on me, for the bike was there untouched, as was Sam's, but there was no way for me to get it back to him. I was jumpy on the way home, too. I kept seeing yellow cars that made gave me heart attacks and nearly caused me to wreck. I'd have to take Sam back some time to get his bike. I tried calling him on my cell to make plans to get it, but got the 'Awesomeness overload' voicemail. Didn't think he would want a car after this. He'd be forty and riding a tricycle to work.

Idling at a stoplight I got a nice glimpse of Sam's jean-clad ass on his mom's frilly pink bike. You had to be fucking kidding me. Speak of the devil, right? I had to stop thinking about that kid.

My bike jumped when I gripped the clutch a little too tight. The people behind me might have been cracking up, but I had a good reason.

He was riding away from that demon car.

I looked up at the sky and flipped off a cloud. Heaven's doors had officially locked us out. Well, him, mostly. I wanted to go home. I could do it. I was free. Wasn't my car. Pretend I'd seen nothing and keep on truckin'. But I couldn't. Could I? No, no.. No. That wouldn't be right. No one believed us. The cops weren't going to take another call seriously, and it was just the two of us who knew what happened. If, by some amazing miracle, I could grab Sam, he'd get a lot further on the back of my bike instead of his mom's wussy-mobile.

The light turned green. Before I had a chance to go, a shiny black squad car roared passed. Jackass. Probably chasing the camaro that was breaking all kinds of laws down the street. He almost clipped a blue moped at the next street over. Crazy fucker. The moped pulled out behind him and in front of me. The chick looked pissed. But a familiar sort of pissed. Someone from school?

Yup, the cop was following Sam and his possessed car. I followed. So did the moped, surprisingly. Mikaela, I realized from the chic boho purse. What the hell was that random person doing following? I knew Sam had a huge crush on the chick, but had they really gotten somewhere? Good for him.

I pulled up to an overpass in time to see Sam and Mikaela on the ground, watch the demon car trip - oh, fuck - another robot. A robot with suspicious black and white paint. But hadn't I seen a guy in that cruiser? A trick?

"No," I breathed, stopped on the sidewalk that led to the entrance of the dump underneath the overpass.

It was a little bit exciting, but a whole lotta bits impossible. My mind was slow to register. These things didn't happen outside of games and comic books. We wished, but they didn't. I was suddenly sorry I'd ever wished.

The camaro pulled up to the two bodies on the ground, and Sam very literally dragged Mikaela inside. Her moped was abandoned against the fence. She fell off? Too many questions.

The camaro peeled out, rubber burning, closely followed by a once-again squad car. I sat there in a daze for what must have been three minutes, then spun out to catch up. I couldn't not follow. One part curiosity, one part disbelief, one part terror, one part worry. Sam and I had grown up together. He was sort of the younger sibling I never wanted following me around the neighborhood playground. Like a tumor you just ended up accepting as a part of life. I loved the little bugger.

They drove forever, my only real trail to follow being the honking cars and faint screeching of tires. It led me to an old factory warehouse just as dusk was settling. The cars came out the other end as I followed along the outside of the building, flipping my headlight on to see better. Once again, did not want. The lights put them on the spot as the camaro slid, dumped Sam and Mikaela, and… transformed. Back into that creature we'd seen the night before. Told you so, rent-a-cop.

The cop car followed suit and transformed into it's own two-legged monster, then launched itself at Sam's camaro. Er, kinda camaro.

The two bots flipped over the kids, but somewhere in the middle, as I was zigzagging between structures, a smaller bot about my height separated from the cop car and tackled Mikaela when they tried to run. She threw it off as I was sliding into the gravel they were running onto. The baby-bot tackled Sam's leg as I got closer. He screamed and kicked his pants off, tried to run again, but the thing kept coming. I had an idea. An impulse, actually. If it was a real idea, I would've had time to think about the consequences. Things were just moving too quickly - there's was no time for anything but reaction.

"WATCH OUT!" I screamed through my helmet, locked my breaks, and swung my back tire directly into the thing. It went flying. Unfortunately for me, motorcycles don't handle those theatrics very well on gravel. The bike flipped, sending me flying across the ground. I watched, almost like slow motion, the ground beneath me roll by for seconds in the air before impact. It hurts in a little white T-shirt. Hurts so bad.

Rocks and glass dug into my back and shoulder blades when I landed, but my head was nice and snug against the foam of the helmet lining. I rolled, arms tucked in against my breasts, stopping when my ribs hit a thick pipe sticking out of the ground. My vision swam. I had to puke. The rolling, the adrenaline, the fear, all had my stomach coming up my throat. I yanked my helmet off with my glasses, on my hands and knees, and threw up right there on the rocks. But Sam was still screaming. That thing wasn't stopped. I grabbed my glasses. I had to get up.

Sam was down a grassy embankment, up against the fence, with that little monster clawing at him. Still dazed from the pain in my back and the little trip through the air, I fell over the flimsy chicken wire fence at the top of the hill and slid down on my butt. "Sam!"

"Rachel, look out! It's got teeth!" he screamed, flipping the thing off his back. I froze as the thing noticed me, but apparently Sam was the one it had a vendetta with. It turned and did a little jig, then launched for him again. I scoured the ground desperately for a big rock, when out of the blue Mikaela came running with an electric saw. A saw. Where the fuck did she get a saw?

"Get it get it get it get it! Kill it!" Sam shouted as she sliced through first its arms, then drove the whirring blade into the baby-bot at random.

I stumbled away and clung to the fence as the thing's head started moving away. On it's own. Chittering like a maniac.

"Yeah, not so tough without a head, huh?" Sam did an impressive kick that sent the head flying back up the hill.

We stood there panting for an eternity, before I looked at Mikaela with a wobbly smile. "Hey, Mikaela."

"Hey, Rachel," she whispered with a shaky half-smile of her own.

"Yeah okay, enough with the pleasantries. We gotta go," Sam said, pulling Mikaela's hand. We jogged along the fence line. It was then that I realized the grinding and screeching of metal from the big bot fight had stopped. I was still a little off-balance and ran into them when they stopped and stared up the hill. I was a little worried to see who had won. Either way, we didn't know who was the bad guy, who was the good guy. It might not even matter - they might just be on their OWN sides, three scrawny human kids be damned.

The ground shook as a metal yellow head, then shoulders, appeared over the top of the hill. I didn't have the energy to be worried then. I barely had the energy to suppress tears from fogging up my square-rimmed glasses as the pain finally kicked in. My body ached. Sam looked a little worse for wear, too, and he wasn't crying. I had to suck it up.

"What is it?" Mikaela whispered. Was I the only one a little leery about it getting closer?

"It's a robot," Sam whispered back. No shit, Sherlock.

"But like a… y'know, a super-advanced robot. S'probably Japanese.."

I just stared at him. For real? "Sam, even the Japanese aren't this far ahead of us."

"Then what the hell is it, an alien?" he hissed.

I craned my neck to look back up at the thing as it stopped. "Probably."

"What're you doing?" Mikaela gasped when Sam started up the hill towards it.

"It's not gonna hurt us," Sam answered, gaze never leaving the yellow bot. "Or it would've already."

At least I wasn't the only one thinking it. Made me feel a little bit better. I nudged Mikaela's shoulder, trying to be reassuring despite the sharp stab of pain that motion brought. "He's got a point, hon.."

"Really?" She threw her arms up. "Well do either of you speak robot? Because they just had like a big droid death match."

Sam started up the hill slowly, step by cautious step, with us girls just watching. "I think it wants something from me."

"What?"

"You?"

He ignored her disbelief and my sarcasm and answered, "The other one was talking about my eBay page."

Mikaela waved her arms and ground out, "You are the strangest boy I have ever met."

"Try living twenty feet from him," I muttered, twisting slightly to show her my back. "How bad is it?"

She pursed her lips and cringed in reply. Yeah, I thought so. "Here, hold still.."

Easier said than done. Her fingers were cold and shaking as she pried rocks from my skin where the shirt was ripped to shreds. A particularly big piece of glass, though shallowly dug in, caused me to twitch away from her.

"Okay, okay... I'll worry about the rest later.."

"Sorry."

"Do you talk?" Sam asked loudly.

Our attention turned back to them as I rubbed my arms, the limbs suddenly cold from blood loss.

"XM Satellite radio..." It garbled, shooting off other radio station chants.

"So you talk through the radio?"

"Thank you, you're-you're beautiful, you're wonderful," an announcer said for him as he clapped his big metal hands together.

"So what was that shit last night?" I asked, trudging up the hill to lean against Sam for support. I felt warmth trickling down my spine. Not good.

The robot pointed up to the sky. "Message from Starfleet, Captain - Through the inanimate vastness of space - Angels will rain down like visitors from heaven! Hallelujah!"

"Visitors from heaven..." Mikaela slowly came up on Sam's other side, face reflecting the bone-deep weariness we all had to be feeling. "What... What are you, like an alien or something?"

He gave her a nod and a point.

"I told you so," I scoffed in Sam's ear as the robot transformed back into a dinky camaro.

"Shut up." He finally looked at me. His irritated expression bled into worry when he took in my pale face and the sheen of sweat I could feel running down my temples and neck. "Rachel? Are you alright?"

"Just... a little worn out. Not exactly the way I expected to start off my summer." It was hard to hide bloodstains on a white shirt. I gave him a tiny smile.

"Anymore questions you want to ask?" the car's radio snapped, passenger door opening invitingly.

"I think it wants us to get in the car..."

I'm getting real tired of thinking 'no shit sherlock'.

Mikaela scoffed breathlessly, giving him an incredulous look. "And go WHERE?"

A slow smile started to form on Sam's face. He glanced at her, taking a small step toward the car. "Fifty years from now don't you want to look back and say you had the guts to get in the car?"

"I do," I stated with false cheer and walked towards the open door, right hand clamped on my left shoulder where I felt the bleeding the most. Something's wrong with you when you get so use to crazy stuff happening around you that you get in a living car without a thought. Especially crazy alien stuff. But that cushy backseat was looking way too good...

I laid across the back seat on my stomach with my legs in the air, eyes closed and trying not to think about the mess that made up my back. It was for a good cause, at least. I'd hate myself if my pseudo-little brother got killed because I was afraid of a few scrapes. Or gashes.

The car screeched to a stop to let Mikaela out to grab her purse. My arm flew out to catch myself on the back of the driver's seat to keep from flying into the floor.

"Please don't do that, car. Please."

It revved, which against my cheek felt like a purr. It was like one of those handheld vibrating massage things, one that covered my whole body. I grumbled happily into the leather. "But that's good. You can keep doing that."

An audience laughed through the radio.

"Don't flirt with the alien car, please," Sam begged from the passenger seat. "This night's weirding me out enough as it is."

"Not my fault," I murmured groggily, peeking an eye open to look up at him. "I told you your car's sexy. Such a sucker for racing stripes."

"Rachel, just please, please lay back there and be quiet, alright? You look like crap and it makes me feel like crap."

"You should. I did this out of love for my tumor."

"Keep that tumor stuff to yourself, alright? He sounded crass, but the tiny lilt in his smile told me he was feeling the burn of guilt. He had a full view of my back, after all, and the hamburger meat it had turned into. "Don't embarrass me in front of the hottest girl in school."

I buried my face against my arm and sighed against the seat. "Boys."


	3. Chapter 3: Autobots

Alright. Here's three. I noticed, reading back over the rough draft, some inconsistences with my facts. I tried getting them all, but if anyone sees anymore or has any constructive criticism, I'd appreciate a head's up.

* * *

><p>We peeled out when Mikaela climbed back over Sam's lap, which I swear his eyes rolled in ecstasy at. She sat in the most uncomfortable position, but I was just worried about the beautiful purr throughout my body from the car. I could learn to love a sentient car.<p>

"Can I smoke in here?"

"No," Sam snapped.

"Oww, the pain..."

"Rachel, I swear to God."

"Sorry." I had no idea where we were going. I figured I should be more bothered by that than I was. Too bad I was just along for the ride and had to accept it.

Somewhere along the line Sam coerced Mikaela to sit on his lap. I smiled, watching their fuzzy forms as he snapped the seatbelt into place. My glasses were clutched in the hand that hung to the floorboard. If nothing else, this little adventure was giving him to first base for the first time. I don't think he'd ever had a girl in his lap before.

And then, at one point where I was slipping in and out of consciousness, Mikaela had to open her mouth. "What I don't understand," she said quietly, "Is why, if he's suppose to be this super-advanced robot, does he turn back into this piece-of-crap camaro?"

The gears shifted and the car swung to an angry stop in the middle of the street we were on. I could hear her from the backseat. Did she really think she was being quiet? Like he wasn't going to hear you when we're INSIDE HIM?

"Oh great, now you see - that was just, wrong, now you pissed him off," Sam griped as he climbed out, taking Mikaela with him.

My heart stuttered as I sat up to follow, but the car was already moving again. A quick glance around showed we were in one of the tunnels "Oh-ho shit, okay, oh shit-" Kidnapped by an alien robot. Not the way I thought my night would go.

Sam shouted in the background, "You see that? Four thousand dollars just drove away! With my neighbor!"

"Where we going?" I yelled, panicked as the car backtracked through the tunnel and struggling with one of the seatbelts. Something told me I wasn't going to like what happened next. Call it female intuition.

The radio shouted, "Hold on tight, ladies and gentlemen!" just before it tilted onto it's side. I screamed and braced against the ceiling with my hands, feet on the door. I lost my grip on the seatbelt as it sped down the tunnel again, gave off this weird winding sound, and the leather beneath my butt rippled. The ceiling did the same ripple and suddenly I wasn't digging my nails into old leather, but new crisp black upholstery. The engine stopped sputtering, the dashboard shimmered like black gloss. It even got that new car smell.

"Hello, Kitty." I stared in surprise at the plush fabric under my fingers. "Wow."

He fell back onto two wheels as gently as a car could, which wasn't much. I jammed a finger trying to catch myself against the new crystal clear window, back bouncing painfully against the new leather seats. I grimaced and my spine arched with the pain. I sat up quickly to alleviate the pressure and panted.

"How do I say I'm sorry?" some old country song whined, the static all but gone in the brand new radio.

"Just don't do that again...," I begged.

"Never again," Kelly Clarkson sang.

"Thank you."

We pulled up, well, hummed up, because really, the thing was thrumming gorgeously now, to a gaping Sam and Mikaela.

"No way," Sam's voice broke. Aw. Had to admit, though, if the inside was a beaut, the outside must've been badass.

Sam slid into the driver seat, getting over his phobia, I guess. Mikaela slid in after him and closed the door, which I noticed no longer banged like it was going to fall off. The hood of the car was absolutely beautiful now, no more faded or chipped spots. The body looked brand new, too. Sam was waaay too lucky. People behind the car began shouting and honking, for a second time, and we sped off.

Back on track, it didn't take us long to get to... wherever it was. The car took us through another gate (seemed to have a fetish for banging things open), and down a gravel path that led to city hall. It stopped in front of the stone statue on the front lawn and we all three climbed out. I stretched as best I could without reopening the scrapes on my back that had started to scab over.

"What're we here for?" I murmured, eyes on the sky. He did say beings from heaven, right?

I was not to be disappointed. Sam and Mikaela gripped each other's hands as four balls of fire soared through the sky overhead. I leaned against the hood to follow them with my eyes without losing my balance. They roared past us and spaced out farther, some headed for town, the others the outskirts. I hoped they didn't kill anyone when they landed.

"C'mon, let's check it out." Sam squeezed Mikaela's hand and they ran off in the direction of the closest asteroid-bot landing. I stayed against the camaro, swallowing. My back was killing me. Not just the scrapes. The rough landing back at the construction site or whatever, some vertebrae must've gotten jarred. It hurt to bend over.

"Maybe we should follow them?" I asked the car uncertainly. It was still kind of weird to talk to a sentient car.

His lights flashed and the horn beeped once, passenger's door opening in invitation. I climbed back in gladly. Standing was a pain. Literally.

We picked the two of them up from the hill they were standing on, gawking at the crater below that was now empty, and zoomed off again. I climbed in the back to give Mikaela room. Wasn't about to get in the way of their bonding. I didn't mind being a third-wheel, like some people. I don't trust men. For obvious reasons. Amidst my friends in high school, I think I was the only one ever considered the third-wheel. I'd never had sex, which I'd heard multiple times is addicting, so I was safe from 'needing' a boyfriend. Besides, most of the guys considered me one of them. It'd be weird to suddenly date.

The car took us to a back alley riddled with grime and trash, coasting to a stop just as an enormous semi-truck pulled through the mist of numerous broken pipes.. Sam and Mikaela slowly climbed out. I followed. I seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. Look where it'd gotten me so far. I had to learn to be a leader.

Three equally badass cars pulled in behind the camaro, one of them an emergency medical truck. My eyebrows rose. That was totally inconspicuous. The other two were a huge black pick-up with environmental nightmares for mufflers, and a small, sleek silver Pontiac Solstice with chrome finishing. I gawked, I admit it. How in the world did they think they were fitting in? Most of these cars were 'look but don't dream' cars that sat in dealership windows for a year, then had to be traded out for the latest model to repeat the cycle.

Mikaela and I both took a deep breath, and the cars started transforming. The camaro backed up to give us room to step back and give the truck room, and to morph, himself. The small silver car transformed into a bot that went into a one-hand stand, eliciting a small, incredulous chuckle from me.

"Wow."

Did it just wink at me? Wow. Finally get some action, and it's from an alien robot that I didn't know if it was here to kill us or not. Oh, me.

The blue, flamed semi crouched down to eye level and leaned within arms reach of Sam's face. He leaned back slowly without moving his feet, eyes the size of plastic plates. The deep voice that rumbled from within it's inner workings made me jump a little and goosbumps shoot up my arms. "Are you Samuel James Witwicky, descendent of Archibald Witwicky?" it demanded.

"They know your name," Mikaela whispered. Was I gonna have to start the 'no shit' thinking with her, too?

Sam took a moment to answer, head tilted back like a three-year-old caught with his daddy's pistol. "Yeah."

"My name is Optimus Prime," the bot, Optimus, rumbled. "We are autonomous robotic organisms from the planet Cybertron."

"But you can call us Autobots for short," the medical vehicle offered politely.

"Autobots," Sam repeated.

I was still half-facing the silver car bot when it did a little twist onto a nearby car and said, "What's crackin', little bitches?"

I laughed. Had to. It was a little hysterical, yeah, but mostly amused.

"My First Lieutenant. Designation, Jazz."

Jazz did another little twist into a kicked back position, denting the old junk car beyond repair. "This looks like a cool place to kick it."

"Kick it?" Robots could be from the 'hood?

"What is that? How'd he learn to talk like that?" Sam asked Optimus, gesturing at Jazz.

Optimus stood to his full imposing height. You didn't have to move, big guy. I didn't need to feel anymore insignificant, thank you.

"We have learned Earth's languages through the world wide web."

I clapped a hand over my mouth to muffle more laughter. That was just... wow. The internet. I should've been more surprised than I was.

The pick-up truck bot behind us started doing something with his arms. My stomach dropped a little when they transformed into something like giant shotguns on steroids. The winding sound suggested he was about to blast us into our own little crater. I swooned in my mind.

"My weapons specialist, Ironhide."

The cannons were suddenly pointed directly at our little human huddle from thirty feet up. "You feelin' lucky, punk?"

I think we all three gulped in unison.

"Easy, Ironhide," Optimus admonished.

"I was just kidding." Was a giant cannon-bearing robot pouting? "I just wanted to show them my cannons."

"That's badass," I breathed, pushing my glasses back up my nose.

Ironhide's chest puffed a little at the comment as his arms powered down. Male ego must be interracial.

Sam puffed out an excited breath, that little smile back on his face. Had to admit I was feeling the giddiness, too. For a stocky little blonde girl, this was pretty cool to me, too. Injuries not withstanding.

"Our medical officer, Ratchet."

All three heads turned to the med truck, who was sniffing the air like a dog. "Hmm, the boy's pheromone levels suggests he wants to mate with one of the females."

My hand snapped up to point a thumb at Mikaela. Why did I have to point that out? I dunno. Instinct?

Sam cleared his throat and Mikaela lowered my hand for me with an evil-eyed look. I rubbed the back of my neck and looked at Sam's car again. He was hopping in place and punching the air when Optimus introduced him.

"You already know your guardian, Bumblebee."

"Bumblebee," Sam nodded, sounding desperate for a distraction.

"Explains the decorations," I agreed, smiling up at the car in awe. "Four thousand bucks gets you a long way, Sam."

"No kidding. So you're my guardian, huh?"

"Check on the rep, yep, second to none!" Bumblebee announced proudly through the radio, nodding.

"His vocal processors were damaged in battle," Ratchet stated, mechanical voice wrought with frustration as he shot the dancing car with a laser from his wrist. Bumblebee choked and gave Ratchet what I guessed was a glare. Ratchet shook his head and tapped at a panel on his wrist. "I'm still working on them."

I dragged my eyes from Bumblebee to Optimus and asked in a loud voice the question we all were wondering, "Why are you here? On this planet?"

Optimus seemed to straighten, recognizing the importance of the question. "We are here looking for the All Spark. And we must find it before Megatron."

"Mega-what?" Sam frowned.

"The bad guy, I'm guessing?"

Optimus glanced at me. "You are correct."

He pressed a big metal finger against his temple. Blue rays shot from his optics to the ground at our feet. An illusion, a hologram, showed us a crumbling planet, on the brink of death, with the very core of it's being spewing through the gaping chasms in its crust. Mikaela and I were separated from Sam by a gash in the ground that had to extend miles and miles down to the molten core.

"Our planet," Optimus' voice rumbled sadly, "Was once a powerful empire, peaceful and just."

Behind us a metal structure soared into the dark sky, rippling with vicious lookng spikes that had to be half a mile long each. I wrapped my arms around myself and squeezed. It was Hell.

"Until we were betrayed by Megatron, leader of the Decepticons," Optimus continued, tone growing bitter. "All who defied them were destroyed."

My nails dug into my arms. More of those structures sprouted all across the expanse of the hologram, with flying bots soaring from the tops in waves. Several bots clashed mid-air, some crumbling into scrap and falling to the roiling lava below. The hologram raced forward suddenly and we were staring up at an incredible charcoal-black bot with fiery red optics as it speared a smaller bot and roared, showing off dagger-like teeth longer than my arm. Had to be Megatron.

"Our war finally consumed the planet, and the All Spark was lost to the stars... Megatron followed it to Earth, where Captain Witwicky found him."

The hologram flickered away, leaving us standing once again in that chill alley way. Now that we weren't separated by gaping holes of lava, Mikaela and Sam stood arm-to-arm like magnets. It was sweet, but I felt completely unnecessary in the grand scheme of things. My involvement was an accident, just me being a neighbor. Sucked a little bit.

"That's my grandfather," Sam nodded, eyes bright.

"It was an accident that intertwined our fates," Optimus continued gravely. "Megatron crash-landed before he could retrieve the Cube. Captain Witwicky accidently activated his navigation system."

"Sounds like a Witwicky, yeah," I whispered, trying to rub my goosebumps away.

"The coordinates to the Cube's location on Earth were imprinted on his glasses."

"Wait, wha- How'd you know about his glasses?" Sam interjected.

Optimus looked way too serious for his answer. "eBay."

"eBay," Sam whispered in disbelief.

"If the Decepticons find the All Spark, they will use its power to transform Earth's machines and build a new army," Ratchet growled, fist clenching.

"And the human race will be extinguished," Optimus finished with a solemn nod.

The bots stood back to appraise Sam. "Sam Witwicky, you hold the key to Earth's survival."

"Well we're fucked." Sam slapped the back of his hand against my chest, but his face made me think he was thinking the same thing.

"Please tell me that you have those glasses," Mikaela begged, leaning into Sam's shoulder.

"Yeah, they're, um, at my house. We need to get to my house, alright?"

"So glad I didn't buy them," I whispered, leaning forward with my hands on my knees. Was the world spinning to anyone else? "I'm sorry, but before we go anywhere, Ratchet?"

The medical vehicle crouched to one knee and leaned forward while Sam put a steadying hand on my shoulder. "Yes, young one?"

"I got a little, uhm, banged up fighting that little psycho bot. You wouldn't happen to have copied the medical supplies that were in the original truck, would you?"

Jazz behind us gave a disgusted grunt as he finally took note of my back. "You are all kinds a fucked up, yo. Gotta hurt like a bitch."

"Thank you for the input."

"I am not personally familiar with the human anatomy, but I may have something that would help," Ratchet nodded in the middle of folding back into the med truck.

Mikaela helped me into the back of it while Sam climbed into Bumblebee with shouts of "Meet you guys at the house!"

"Sorry to impose, big guy," I muttered when we were finally settled into the metal seats in the back, my head resting against one of the white cabinets built into the side. Mikaela opened the one across from me and found two rolls of gauze and a packet of soft cotton pads. Figuring it was for me and I should help out, I ducked and swung the cabinet I was leaning against open. Syringes. Yuck. But next to the syringes was a clear glass bottle that read 'antiseptic'. I'd probably need a little of that.

I didn't have a problem removing my shirt, mentally speaking, though it was a little hard to peel off after the blood had dried it against my skin. I don't think a robot would be affected by a human girl's naked stomach or bra. It didn't even bother me that the model-sexy Mikaela was the one cleaning the wounds out. I faced the front as she worked, watching the line of Autobots in front of us. We probably looked pretty cool, all these badass cars in a convoy formation.

"Ouch!" Mikaela was plucking more glass from my back.

"Sorry."

"No big.. You are so awesome, Ratchet. You wouldn't even believe. You guys rock," I gushed, closing my eyes and leaning forward on my knees as she gently rubbed antiseptic into the cuts with a cloth.

"We have had millennia to evolve and progress," Ratchet said modestly from the CB over the driver's seat.

"Still, I thought I'd have to wait for a hospital trip. I'm really grateful."

"You know, that was a pretty brave move with the bike," Mikaela said quietly, hoping for conversation to break the relative silence. "It was stupid, but brave."

"Not much of a difference, some people would say." I glanced over my shoulder with a wry grin. "That was some fast thinking with the saw, too. Like a sweet ass future Xena."

She laughed and started a few layers of gauze for me, then handed me the roll. I had to take my bra off and finish wrapping my torso myself. Gender sharing only went so far. "Well thanks. Guess it's not always a boy's job to come to the rescue."

"With Sam it never has been," I snorted. "One time I had to rescue him from a wasp. He kept trying to hit it with a badminton racket with his eyes closed."

She was quiet, returning the left over gauze and pads to the cabinets. "So, how do you and Sam know each other?"

"Besides going to the same school? We've been neighbors since we were little. He used to be like a puppy, since I'm two years older than you guys. It's a sibling relationship." I tucked the ends of the gauze in, one over my navel, the other over my right breast. It already felt better. "So you don't have to worry."

Her mouth opened in surprise, working for a second before she forced a laugh. "Oh, I wasn't... Erm..."

I waved it off and waded the destroyed bra up in a front jean pocket, tossing the shirt back on. It was torn up, but it was all I had. The bandages were tight enough my bigger than average breasts could go without, but still breath, like a sports bra. "I won't tell. But I will let you know that it's reciprocated. He likes you. I can see why, too. You're a lot tougher than most girls."

"So are you. Thanks, Rachel."

I gave her a weak thumbs up, and we crawled to the front seats.

"So," I started, directing my attention back to the Autobot we were currently hitching a ride in, but faltered. There were too many questions. I didn't know where to start.

"You may ask what's on your mind," Ratchet said. I could picture the smile in his voice, and it helped me relax.

"I just... don't understand. How did the Autobots come into being in the first place? You said the All Spark created you, but I can't wrap my mind around it. Did you start out as scrap, bump into it, and evolve from there?"

"Yes, actually." Ratchet sounded surprised. "At least, that is one theory. Others have worshipped the Cube as a sentient being that hibernates within the confines of the outer shell."

"Sounds a lot like humans," Mikaela said.

"Religion versus scientific theory," I nodded. "Wish we could change into anything we see like you guys, though."

The conversation was cut off as we pulled up to the Witwicky house. Mikaela and I both hopped out as Sam jogged down the driveway to us.

"I need you guys to stay here, all right? Just stay here and keep an eye on them. Don't let them transform."

"Okay, yeah, okay." Mikaela sounded as skeptical as I was feeling. Keep an eye? On five huge robot aliens? Right, what were we gonna do, rust them with the garden hose if they misbehaved?

"I'm gonna grab a shirt real quick," I cut in, already jogging down the driveway to the fence line.

"Alright just make it snappy, okay?"

"You're not my dad!"

"Would you just - ugh!"

Mom was asleep when I sneaked inside. A note was on the kitchen table, held in place by the salt shaker.

'Rachel:

Lasagna's in the fridge. When you get home, please wake me up. We need to talk.

I love you.'

I sighed through my nose, staring at the paper for a bit before setting it back on the table. "Sorry, Mom."

I felt infinitely cleaner in a pair of dark-wash skinny jeans and a plum colored tank top. I went to the bathroom and felt a little better with an empty bladder. No telling how long I'd held that in. Plenty of piss-myself moments tonight. My face looked terrible in the mirror over the sink. My left glasses lens had a crack on the side. I dropped those in favor of the contacts hidden behind the mirror in the medicine cabinet. Having to keep track of glasses in the middle of a robot war probably wasn't a good idea. And I had no doubt that it might turn into a war.

Going through the motions of wiping my smeared eyeliner and brushing my hair helped me calm down. Us girls and our beauty habits, man. My short blonde hair had started to curl at the ends from the sweat of the night's adventures, and my eyes were bloodshot. With the dark blue irises, my eyeballs looked like a cracked Christmas tree ornament.

I quietly buried the ruined bra underneath wads of paper in the kitchen trashcan, and left my bike keys sitting on the table to make it look like I came home and went to bed. Just in case this took a little longer than we thought.

Not two seconds afterward, there was a loud crash from outside, and the whole house shook on its foundation. I braced against the kitchen table with a hissed curse as the house electricity whirred down and the oven and microwave's clocks went out. What the hell were they doing out there? Were the bad guys attacking? Mom's bedding shifted upstairs, and I booked it outside as quietly as I could. My bedroom door was locked with my laptop softly playing iTunes. Maybe she'd think I just slept through it. I could use some good karma.

I raced up the Witwicky's driveway and briefly stopped. The cars were gone. The bots were in humanoid form in Sam's backyard. Okay. This could still be fixed. I dashed between Bumblebee's legs and froze. The fountain that Mr. Witwicky had stressed on for the past week, Mrs. Witwicky's garden... all completely destroyed. My hands went into my hair again. Oh God, I needed a cigarette.

"What the hell are you guys doing? Wasn't this suppose to be a covert operation? You guys suck at being ninjas!" I hissed at the Autobot I was most familiar with, which just happened to be Bumblebee.

He lifted his hands palm forward in a calming gesture that had no affect on my nerves. Ratchet was getting a kick out of it from the ground where he'd fallen. It looked like he stumbled into the power lines. I'm glad HE was having so much damn fun with the little electric high he gave himself.

"You're suppose to be the smart one!" I whisper-yelled at him, hearing Sam's parents yelling in the house. "Oh Christ, great, just great."

"Ratchet, point the light."

"No no no!" I jumped up and down, waving my arms to get the giant bots' attentions. "Don't point the light! Don't point the light!"

"Cut the light off, cut the light off!" Sam raged from the window.

He ducked back inside as the light finally went off and his dad started a muffled counting through the door. I listened to the door of his room creak open and ducked down against the wall of the house. I couldn't hear the conversation inside, but had a grand ol' time watching the enormous robots trying to shuffle around for places to hide. They were so not built for this planet.

My heart leapt in my throat when I heard Sam's dad start yelling out the window directly above me.

"Oh, great, look at the yard!"

I inched my way left very, very slowly, head craned to watch the underside of Mr. Witwicky's chin, trying not to rustle the bushes. I managed to slink around the corner without being seen and let out a shaky breath. He wouldn't freak out if he saw me, probably, but he might come outside to question me. Didn't need all that.

The backs of my legs bumped into Bumblebee's foot and we both gave each other the silent gesture, fingers to our mouths/mouth pieces. I had to grin at that. The prospect of being caught added a little more adventure to the situation. It was like being a little kid again and sneaking off to a friend's house in the middle of the night. Jazz's dumb ass was hiding INSIDE the house. What a secret hiding place. We were screwed, I could feel it.

"The parents are very irritating," Ironhide huffed. I peeked around the corner and felt my face go pale. His cannons were trained on the window where Mr. Witwicky's head had been just moments before. "Can I take them out?"

"Yeah yeah yeah yeah!" Ratchet was still stoned. A stoned doctor. Fan-freaking-tastic.

"Ironhide, you know we don't harm humans!" Optimus said. "What is with you?"

Ironhide looked properly chastised, but still argued, "Well, we could. I'm just saying it's an option."

Was I not the only teenager out here?

I pressed the heel of my palm to my forehead. "God, I feel I'm surrounded by grade schoolers."

Mikaela joined the conversation inside. I felt the silence creeping into the room upstairs and cupped my hands to my mouth. This was gonna be good.

"Oh my gosh, you are GORGEOUS!" Sam's mom guffawed. I had a 'lmao' moment. I loved his mom.

I made my way backward towards Optimus' foot. "Is Ratchet gonna be okay?"

"He'll be fine," he reassured, looking down at me. "Just a little jolt."

"A little? He's swinging from the gutters."

Optimus made the Autobot equivalent of a grimace and didn't say anything else. He looked a little embarrassed with his medical officer. I didn't blame him, but the little fairy in the back of my mind didn't miss how funny the situation had gotten. "Autobots, blend."

I stared at the five cars suddenly scattered across the Witwickys' backyard. Blend. Right. Oh. Oh wait. Were those flashing lights coming from the street? Red and blue flashing lights? Oh snap.

"Shh," I whispered and ducked down, jogging back to the driveway and sneaking down the wall of the house. Bumblebee had to peek his head around like a curious kitten. I waved him back frantically and didn't move again until he ducked back again and I heard the creaks of him transforming. I'd have to get him later for rolling his optics at me. When I reached the corner of the house I took a deep breath and held it, then looked around the edge. Several black, official-looking SUVs were parked in front of the house, lights in their grills flashing. My skin broke out in a cold sweat when I took stock of all the black suits in the front yard.

And my motherfucking foot slipped.

The gravel rustled, the bush in front of me rustled, and seven heads snapped in my direction. I thunked my head back against the siding and waited. Sure enough, two of the suits came around, grabbed my arms, and dragged me to the front. "Sam!"

Too late. The suits were already inside his house, with one waving some instrument in front of Sam and Mikaela.

"Hold still, miss." Another suit with a bad bald spot in his dark hair stood in front of me, waving an identical instrument. "Sector Seven business."

"Like I have a choice?" I gave an experimental jerk on my arms and winced. "Ow, guys, come on, I'm injured here."

The little box attached to the microphone beeped erratically. That couldn't be good. The man's eyes bugged and he shouted over his shoulder, "Fourteen rads on this kid!"

Apparently that was a very bad thing. For me. The others looked excited, like kids in a candy store. The Mexican inside the house shouted back, "Fourteen rads here. Bag 'em and tag 'em, boys!"


	4. Chapter 4: Gorgeous

Shoo. This one took a few days. Sorry. As warm as it's been getting, my funk ass still managed to catch a cold. e_e Wth. I blame younger siblings bringing that shit from school. Anyway. Rachel gets a little testy and admires Bee. Woot.

* * *

><p>Hands still held behind my back, I was jerked forward to one of the big SUVs as the Witwicky family plus Mikaela was dragged out of the house. "This is kidnapping! You can't do this, you're not even cops!"<p>

I just got some spiel bullshit about Sector Seven having basically the authority to do whatever the hell they wanted. Great. Power Nazis.

Poor little Mojo was led away on a catch pole, with Sam's parents being led out next, then Sam, then Mikaela. I panicked a little and watched two of the suits sneak up the driveway to the backyard where the Autobots were hiding. God, I hoped they had learned how to hide better in the last five minutes.

"If you hurt my dog, I'll kick your ass!" Mrs. Witwicky shouted. She's so great.

"Get me a sample on that vegetation ASAP!" the Mexican shouted as we were hustled into black SUVs, me with my head shoved down and Sam and Mikaela tossed in after me.

"Sam! Do not say anything Sam! Not a word until we get a lawyer!" Mr. Witwicky shouted as he and his wife were forced into the back of the SUV behind us.

Then my mother came out of the house. I slunk down against the seat, hoping she couldn't see me through the tinted glass. She wouldn't know I was with Sam. She wouldn't be looking for me to be in the car. She stood in her robe, eyes wide in shock, clutching it around her. One of the suits walked up the sidewalk to her. My heart pounded in my chest so hard it hurt. I watched as he ushered her back inside with the flash of a badge, then let out a whoosh of breath I didn't know I was holding. They didn't know to take her. Thank God.

Sam was squished between us girls, two suits slid into the front (the Mexican was one of them. Yaaay), and the convoy of SUVs rolled forward.

I gave the other two a breathless glance. "Hey guys."

"So, uh. Ladiesman217." The Mexican, who I guess was the head of the task force, shook a clear bag in the passenger's seat, and flipped open a cell phone that I quickly recognized as Sam's. "That is your eBay username, isn't it?"

Sam glanced between me and Mikaela. She was giving him the same look I was. Boys.

"Yeah, but you know, it was a typo and I ran with it," he stuttered.

"What do you make of this?" Mexico pushed a button on the phone, and the message Sam had left for his family on that fateful night - was it really just last night? - replayed back to us. I heard myself in the background and dropped my head back against the seat. Fuck.

"Is that you?" Mexico grinned smugly.

I shook my head. Mikaela snorted. "Yeah, that sounds like LadiesMan."

"Last night at the station you told the officer your car transformed." Mexico looked at me. I was still shaking my head. "And you were with him, telling the same story. Enlighten me."

"Look, okay, here's what I said, okay?" Sam rushed, leaning forward. "This is all a total misunderstanding that my car had been stolen-"

Mexico smacked his lips. "Really?"

Mikaela and I were nodding our heads like idiots. I was too afraid to say anything. I'm not the best secret keeper. Why do you think I gave up lying to my mom?

"- from me, from my home, but it's fine now, it's back! It came back!"

I kicked him with my knee. And I was worried about my mouth. Mikaela stared at him like he was a moron. Which he kind of was.. "Well, not by itself," she added quickly.

"Well, no," Sam agreed on a high-pitched laugh.

"Cars can't do that. That's totally nuts," I nodded, sounding much calmer than I felt.

"Yeah, crazy," Mikaela laughed.

Mexico started laughing obnoxiously with her and Sam, but I didn't find anything about this funny. And, obviously, Mexico really didn't either. His smile dropped in a split second. "So what do you kids know about aliens, huh?"

"They kidnap cows," I snickered, meeting his probing stare head-on.

"Oh, you mean like a martian? E.T.? No," Sam chuckled and swallowed.

"Urban legend."

"Yeah."

Mexico gave another fake laugh and suddenly flipped his wallet open. "You see this? This is an I-can-do-whatever-I-want-and-get-away-with-it badge."

"Right." Sam was quiet again.

"I need one of those," I said without thinking. Sam elbowed me without taking his eyes off Mexico.

"I can lock you up forever," Mexico stated, enunciating the words like they determined life or death. Kinda did, actually.

Sam and I went quiet at the threat, but Mikaela was obviously getting irritated. "Oh, you know what, don't listen to him because he's just pissy 'cause he's gotta get back to guarding the mall."

"And all of it's scary parking lots," I shot in, glaring at him. Nothing worse than smug officials who think they can do whatever the hell they want because they have a shiny piece of metal.

"You." His bug-eyes swung to Mikaela. "In the training bra. Do not test me. Especially not with your daddy's parole coming up."

Mikaela's expression shuttered. I stiffened and curled my lip at him. "That's low even for a cop, asshole."

"And you," his wide, victorious smile swung to me. "Your daddy's rotting in prison even as we speak, isn't that right? Does the apple not fall far from the tree, sweetheart?"

My vision went red. But before I could lunge (not that I could do anything with my hands in cuffs), Sam looked between the two of us with an incredulous expression. "Parole? Prison?"

"It's nothing," Mikaela tried to reassure quickly. I went quiet and leaned my head against the back of the driver's seat.

"Oh grand theft auto, that ain't nothing?" Mexico.

"Shut the fuck up," I whispered to my feet.

"And I suppose daddy just had a temper and didn't mean it, right sweetheart?"

I lifted my head slowly, lips pursed so hard they went numb. "Shut. Up."

Mikaela inhaled deeply and bowed her head, the war on her face visible as she tried to smother her shame. "Y'know those cars my dad use to teach me to fix? Well, they weren't always his... And we couldn't always afford a babysitter, so sometimes I had to ride along."

"And she's got her own juvie record to prove it!" Mexico chortled.

"My mom and dad didn't split," I said quietly, figuring it was my turn. "He beat us into a life sentence."

"A sad puppy and a criminal. Criminals are HOT." Mexico growled excitedly. I needed, desperately, to cave his face in with a baseball bat. "Now you're a lost cause, but it'd be a shame if YOUR daddy had to rot in jail for the rest of his natural life, too."

My chin wobbled at the unfairness of it all. This was beyond cruelty to children.

"It is TIME to TALK," Mexico shouted, as the machine on the console began beeping insanely. My heartbeat sped up with it. That thing told them we had contact with the Autobots. Was that-?

SLAM.

I only got a small glimpse of a red and blue metal foot before we rammed right into it. Everyone flew forward as a shower of sparks blinded the windshield. I could hear the SUVs behind us squealing and crashing to a halt. I shouted a laugh. And here I thought they were going to go on without us.

"Big! It's big!" the driver screamed.

"Big and bad, baby, WHOO!" I shouted happily as Optimus' fingers crashed through the windows and lifted the entire car into the air.

Everyone was screaming nonsense, Sam shouting to "shift the weight to the front!". I clung to the seat in front of me as the roof finally gave with a shake and the demolished vehicle crashed back to the ground at the giant feet of the leader of the Autobots.

"You A-holes are in trouble now," Sam grinned, leaning forward between the seats. "Gentlemen. I want you to meet my friend, Optimus Prime."

As if they couldn't see the giant robot that had effortlessly torn their fancy car in two. I jerked experimentally on my bound wrists, wanting nothing more than to get out of the car and back to the Autobots. Strangely enough, I felt safer at the thought of them than I did with my own race.

"Taking the children was a bad move," Optimus growled, tossing the top of the car to the side.

The cavalry from the other SUVs hustled to stand in front of Optimus with their guns raised. I was grinning like an idiot at the idea that they had, that their guns would do SHIT against this behemoth of metal.

"Autobots, relieve them of their weapons."

I shared Sam's delighted grin when we all turned to see the four others swinging down from the bridge and rushing up to the little gathering. "It's about time, ya'll!"

"Freeze!" Ironhide yelled, obviously giddy to have a reason to show off his cannons.

"Gimme those." Jazz's arm clattered into some kind of magnet that tore the suits' guns from their hands. Ratchet came up on the other side of Ironhide, with Bumblebee strolling up on the other side of Jazz with his arms crossed.

"Whoa whoa whoa!" Mexico kept shouting, arms raised. Yeah, how's it feel, _sweetheart? _"Hi, there."

He twisted in a frantic circle with his arms up while I worked to jimmy what was left of the back door open. Optimus crouched to one knee and leaned close, metal parts furrowing into a suspicious scowl. "You don't seem afraid. Are you not surprised to see us?"

Mexico, who I was starting to suspect was actually Italian (hell if I could tell), waved his arms helplessly and stuttered out, "Look, there are S-Seven protocols, okay? I'm not authorized to communicate with you, except.. to tell you I can't communicate with you."

He's real impressive in the face of danger.

"Get out of the car," Optimus snarled.

"Al-alright, ju-just me-?"

"NOW."

My bones shook with that strict order. Whoo, big guy has a voice.

"Alright, alright! I'm - I'm getting out, I'm getting out, you see?" He stumbled, trying to keep his hand up like it was suppose to protect him and swing out of the mangled wreck at the same time. The doors were opened for us and I slid out first, managing to keep my balance without my arms. Sam tumbled out after me, followed by a surprisingly free Mikaela. She started working on his cuffs.

Sam snapped, "What, you're good with handcuffs now, too?"

"You weren't suppose to hear all that," she answered quietly, dropping the cuffs to the ground and moving on to my hands without looking at him.

"Yeah," he snorted and walked away.

I offered quiet thanks when my hands fell free, deciding not to get in on this argument. He probably didn't want to look at me, either. She followed closely at Sam's heels, fuming. I couldn't blame her. I couldn't blame him, either. She had a right to be angry, but he had never had any kind of run-in with any law other than his parents. And although they argued like squawking parrots, it never escalated and it never stepped over any boundaries. It was why I liked spending time at his house so much as kids. My parents' fighting was always whole-heartedly meant to hurt.

I took the opportunity to have a cigarette. I think I deserved one. I leaned against the opposite side of the abused SUV, lighting up while enjoying the show of Mexico and his gang backed into a tight circle by five angry robots that I could call friends.

I inhaled deeply, then sighed. "Oh yeah, that hit the spot."

"Your wounds don't seem to be bothering you as much."

I tilted my head up to Ratchet. Ironhide gave me a glance, but was having too much fun threatening the suits with his guns. "I'm okay. Probably don't even need stitches. All thanks to you, Doc. What took ya'll so long?"

"We can't let humans see us," Ironhide chided, with a glance at Optimus that suggested he was mocking him and didn't want to get caught.

"That's silly," I agreed solemnly for his sake.

Sam and Mikaela finally joined us. I don't know what she said to him, but it seemed to have straightened him up a bit. Good. He needed a little kick in the ass if the world's fate really did revolve around him.

He walked right up to the head honcho and demanded, "What is Sector Seven? Answer me."

Honcho seemed to forget himself for a minute with a clipped, "I'm the one who asks questions around here. Not you, young man."

I snorted and stomped my cigarette butt out. That went out too fast. Dang it.

"How did you know about the aliens?" Mikaela demanded.

"Where did you take my parents?"

The grown man looked flustered. I couldn't help myself.

"Where's Mojo?" I demanded. Sam rolled his eyes at me.

"I am not at liberty to discuss-"

"No?" Sam's hand dove into the man's jacket.

"Hey, you touch me, that's a federal offense!"

"Because we're so worried about that at this point," I muttered.

Sam showed the honcho his own badge. "Do-whatever-I-want-and-get-away-with-it badge, right?"

"Yeah, he's so brave now that his big alien friends are here-"

"Where is Sector Seven?" Sam asked again.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

Then Bumblebee did THE best thing ever. He twisted a cap on his groin, which sprung off to nail Honcho in the back of the head, but that wasn't even the best part. The camaro robot then proceeded to piss on the man. I shit you not.

"HEY HEY!" Honcho screeched.

I of course burst into loud laughter. "Oh my God!"

"Get that thing to stop, would ya?"

"Bumblebee, stop lubricating on the man," Optimus reprimanded, though I swear I heard amusement in that voice, too.

"Bumblebee, you are the KING!" I laughed.

He raised his arms and looked around as if to say 'What, what?'. If he had lips he'd be grinning with ass off.

A few minutes later the suits were all handcuffed together and sitting on the sidewalk like teenagers being busted with weed. I admit, I was a little smug at that. I sat on top of what was left of the car door to the SUV, elbows on my knees as Mikaela demanded Honcho strip. Could this get any better?

"What are you talking about?"

"Your clothes, all of it, off," she repeated, standing in front of him with her feet spread apart and her hands on her hips.

"What for?" he asked, incensed.

"For threatening my dad." She threw a glance at me behind her. "And badmouthing hers."

Sam walked over to stand beside her, eyebrows raised expectantly.

"Little lady," Honcho started as he jerked his jacket off, "This is the beginning of the end of the rest of your life."

"Ooh, scary."

Mikaela just nodded. There went the tie, the shirt - Superman would laserbeam his ass into a puddle if he saw that abominable tank top - and all the time Honcho wouldn't stop threatening, grasping for any shred of his dignity. "You're a criminal." There went the belt. "Let's face facts. It's in your gene pool." And there went the pants.

"Those are gorgeous," I nodded to his Alaska boxers.

"Mmhm, very nice. Now get behind the pole," Mikaela instructed.

He obeyed, surprisingly, but one of his dogs spoke up for him. "This is such a felony, what you're doing."

I jerked my head in his direction. "You want to be next?"

His jaw clamped shut. But he still kept muttering under his breath as Mikaela handcuffed Honcho's arms around the pole. I slid off the car and scuffed my sneaker innocently, hands clasped behind my back as I moseyed up to the balding redhead. I needed a little fun too.

"Turn around."

"What? Why?"

"I warned you. Face your friend."

He sputtered, but did as he was told. Mikaela caught my eye, and I winked. She smiled devilishly. We handcuffed him front to back with Honcho, forcing him to spoon the other man against the pole. It was absolutely delicious. Until he dropped a phone that was very clearly on. Mikaela and I looked up at each other in horror. The 'whop-whop' of helicopter blades sounded in the distance not long after.

"Sam!" I shouted.

"We gotta go!" Mikaela.

"Optimus! Incoming!" Ironhide shouted, already down and prone to fire. The other Autobots followed suit with the efficiency of an Army Ranger squad. Ironhide fired directly into the ground, sending a shockwave out that had the countless SUVs heading in our direction skidding around the pavement.

"Roll out!" Optimus commanded. They transformed in record time, rubber burning as all four took off. Sam and Mikaela and I looked around at each other. What were we suppose to do? Run?

"Up you go," Optimus said gently, open hands offered on the ground.

We didn't have much choice. I climbed into one hand, Sam and Mikaela in the other. The metal of his palms was warm, something I wasn't expecting. But I guess a sentient robot is pretty different from those little discs that vacuum floors, so.

He held Sam and Mikaela up first. They climbed onto his right shoulder and found handholds on the exhaust pipe there. I was pushed up to his left shoulder. I clung to the exhaust pipe on my side just as the spotlights were falling down on us. Optimus twisted around and started running. I tried getting a better grip with my feet, but the soles of my worn shoes kept slipping. I opted for just hugging the pipe for all I was worth. We ended up having to flee down busy Main Street, cars barely managing to dodge around Optimus' feet. Not many people will ever say they got to ride on the shoulders of a giant robot. It's one HELL of a rush. Every time he took a step, I slipped a little and had to push my feet against the split windshield across his chest. Not a good situation. I almost 'lubricated' all over his shoulder.

He swung onto a side road. The helicopters roared passed, unable to make such a sharp turn. We came out the other end and without missing a beat, Optimus swung down under a bridge. The action took my breath away, like the first bump on a rollercoaster. There was a brief moment of weightlessness, then he swung up underneath the bridge and braced himself between two gigantic cement rungs that held the sides together. I inhaled sharply and scrambled for a foothold. Sam and Mikaela were struggling just as much as I was.

"Easy, kids," Optimus rumbled quietly. The helicopters passed underneath without stopping, and I let my breath out in a whoosh. We seemed to be safe. So why were the other two still screaming?

My heart stopped when I looked under Optimus' chin. Somehow Mikaela had gone from laying across his neck, to hanging in the air by Sam's arm. "No! Mikaela! Pull her up!"

Realizing that wasn't going to happen, I acted without thinking. That was a long drop. It'd kill any of us humans to fall now. I swung down suddenly, half on purpose and half actually falling, hand wrapped around one of the pipes in Optimus' neck, trying to reach her. "Grab me!"

"Sam! Rachel!" she begged, legs flailing. "I'm slipping!"

Her other hand slashed the air and managed to catch mine, but gravity finally won. My hand slipped. Sam slipped. Screaming in terror, we all went pummeling to the cement ground. Optimus' foot swung up to meet us with a metallic roar, but there was no way to get a grip. Sam tried, and bounced off one side. Mikaela and I, still gripping each other's arms, flipped off the other end of the foot, and continued falling.

I think that was when I really fell in love with Bumblebee's transforming noises. I was staring up at the bridge in disbelief that we were going to die for a pair of old glasses when I heard it, yellow and steel flashed across my vision and I was slammed up against Mikaela in a big metal hand. Our head knocked together, and I must've blacked out for a split-second. The next thing I remember, I was confused and looking down at Bumblebee's gorgeous metal face. He was holding us up off the ground, on his front, skidding to a stop. I gasped for ragged breath and wrapped my arms around his finger.

"Oh my God, I love you so much!" I rasped, trying to focus on his optics and get Mikaela's elbow out of my screaming back. He blinked owlishly and set us down as helicopters swung low under the bridge again, jumping to his feet and stepping in front of us protectively.

"NO!" We all screamed as a wicked looking harpoon shot from the helicopter and caught one of his hands. Attached to that harpoon was thick cable that jerked his arm up over his head. Another helicopter swung around out of nowhere and caught his other hand, twisting him around in a circle.

"No no no!" I moaned, hands clenched in my hair and tears streaming down my face. He'd just saved our goddamn lives and we could do NOTHING to keep him from getting captured. It was the worst kind of helpless feeling, more so than when I was younger and couldn't stop my dad from hitting my mom, because Bumblebee had defended us, me, whereas she never would have.

White, hot fury suddenly bubbled up in my throat. My darting eyes caught a hunk of concrete broken off from one of Bumblebee's footsteps. I raced forward and scooped it up without thinking, and hurled it at the low flying helicopter. It hit the glass at one of the pilot's feet. I was shocked that I'd managed that, but then, people lifted cars single-handedly off of babies, right? Adrenaline is an amazing thing.

The pilot jerked his leg where a tiny, infinitesimal crack had been chipped by the concrete. I laughed gleefully. "How do you like that, you bastards!"

"Rachel, no! SAM!" Mikaela screamed.

Another harpoon. This one caught Bumblebee's leg, flipping him onto his back. Bumblebee gave a scratchy metallic sound of pain and fought back desperately, but another helicopter harpoon found his other foot and soon held him prone on the ground. He looked up at us pleadingly. I realized he was probably still very much a kid, like us. He definitely seemed like it. I mean, he pissed on people. Bumblebee the joker shouldn't be in pain like that. I scrubbed my eyes furiously as more of those hellacious SUVs surrounded us, and the helicopters spotlighted Bumblebee. They just absolutely had to put an agonized creature on stage for us, didn't they?

"NO! STOP! STOOOP!" Sam kept screaming. I had already decided that screaming didn't work. Action did. Brain still not thinking straight, I picked up another hunk of concrete and launched it at an SUV. It crashed into the windshield and caused the car to stop prematurely compared to the others.

Guns, dozens of them, were suddenly trained right on us. "ON THE GROUND!" A megaphone shouted. "ON THE GROUND!"

The words were barely out before armored men rushed us, forcing us down onto our stomachs. The sadistic sons-of-bitches gave us a front-row view of Bumblebee's torture. A voice echoed somewhere, "Freeze it! Freeze it! Freeze it!"

"Look, he's not fighting back!" Sam shouted. "He's not fight back!"

Men with canisters on their backs starting shooting Bumblebee with what looked like fog. Fog doesn't cause anything to squeal in pain like that, though.

"Stop hurting him!" Sam was still screaming. We were all three dragged to our feet and hauled backwards, away from the car that we were all so attached to in such a short amount of time. You tend to get attached to all those involved when it's such a big life-or-death deal.

I didn't break down until Bumblebee reached for us. My legs gave out, and I sobbed openly. It broke my heart. Mikaela was managing to keep to her feet on her own, although she was screaming as much as Sam. Sam, on second thought, had gone strangely quiet. Then he jerked free and shot off, tackling one of the men spraying Bee and turning the hose back at him. He was taken down again quickly, right there in front of Bumblebee.

The guy dragging me backward cursed and had to have another armored man help him. I refused to make things easier on them. They were going to have to drag all one hundred forty pounds of me by their damned selves. It didn't faze me that my arms were being wrenched out of their sockets. It was nothing compared to what our savior was going through.

"No!" Mikaela choked once more before they shoved her into a backseat.

I squeezed my eyes shut and wailed for the other Autobots to help him, where the hell were they when he was being so brave? There was no answer, of course. Three men slung me into the back of a separate SUV. My head crashed against the opposite window. I didn't feel it. A man slid in beside me, and two got in up front. Through the tinted glass I saw Mexican Honcho, with pants now, standing erect and most likely mocking a scuffed up and struggling Sam.

"Put him in a car with his criminal friend," M.H. commanded with a sniff. Sam was thrown into the SUV opposite me with Mikaela, and the cars peeled out. I leaned forward to keep my eyes glued on Bumblebee, who had gone limp. My whole body shook. He couldn't be. He wouldn't be. Of all the camaros out there, Bumblebee would never.

Drained, emotionally and physically, I leaned my temple against the window and closed my eyes.

* * *

><p>YEAH. SO. Tada. Aw. She called him gorgeous. x3 Doubtful that a hunk of concrete could really do that much damage, but I've never tried it, y'know. It could happen for all I know. xD Plus, Rachel's a muscled chick. She could pull it off.<p> 


	5. Chapter 5: All Spark

WHOO. Update already? God I rock.

If Rachel's temper is starting to upset or annoy anyone, so be it. She's maturing throughout just as Sam does. If you live in the US like me, you know how long it takes for kids to mature. _ I'm still trying to, and I'm almost legal to drink. So. Enjoy the little blonde spitfire.

* * *

><p>When I next peeled my eyes open, it was because the SUV convoy had stopped. I had managed to calm down and was much more docile when they opened the door. I guess I was just all stressed out. I needed a little time to not worry or care about what was happening, because there were people now who would direct me. Let them take charge for a change instead of three kids who had to make decisions we were never sure were right.<p>

They didn't even have to lift a hand to get me out. My feet hit asphalt and I wobbled a little, but I was okay. I took a look around. We were on some military base, on the runway, and the pounding in my head was the whirring of helicopter blades.

"Fucking hate helicopters," I whispered to myself as I was led around the front of the car, flanked by two of the suits I equally hated. When I saw Sam and Mikaela climb out of the car next to me, I raced forward and squeezed Sam's neck, fighting more tears that I didn't have.

Mikaela gave a faint smile and we all followed more obediently than I liked to the choppers. Another SUV pulled up behind ours. Another blonde girl and a pudgy dark guy were led out and the whole group was strapped into the helicopter and in the air before I realized it. Showed how spaced out I was. I needed another nap. Enormous headsets were handed out so we could talk, though I couldn't see much of that happening.

We were in the air for ten minutes, maybe, when Sam finally tried to break the silence.

"So..."

The other blonde girl smiled. "What'd they get you for?"

Cute accent.

"Ah, I bought a car, turned out to be an alien robot," Sam shrugged it off like it was no big deal. That brought a tiny smile to my face.

Mikaela quirked her mouth and nodded while the black guy breathed, "Wow" into the headset.

"Yeah. Who knew?"

I leaned forward and smiled sweetly. "I'm just a very devoted neighbor."

The guy chuckled. I think we could all hear his confusion. I needed another cigarette. We swapped greetings and names, but I felt too restless for idle chitchat. My brain kept skirting around what I was really scared of - Bee dying. I didn't know the Sector's intentions. Did they need or want him alive? Could they do whatever the fuck they wanted just as efficiently if he weren't? A cold stone of fear settled in my stomach. The others had to be feeling the same.

"Is that Hoover Dam?" I asked instead, looking out the open doors.

All heads craned against the safety straps to see. I had been on a trip to Hoover Dam in elementary school, but never bothered to go back. Like a New Yorker blows off the Statue of Liberty. I forgot how huge it was.

When we landed a little ways off, we were put in more of those God-forsaken SUVs, even though we didn't get very far. We drove onto the bridge, right in the center, then had to walk a bit more anyway. The theatrics weren't needed, drama queens.

We took a minute to be the kids we were and gawk over the edge of the bridge. That was a looong drop. I fumbled in my back pocket for the cigarettes there, but couldn't find my lighter. Lost in all the excitement. Great. I left the cig in my mouth and sucked emptily at it, figuring it would have to be enough for now, before being ushered onward. Mikaela had to go back for her purse and jacket, but other than that we continued on without a hitch. At one point the black kid, introduced as Glen, tried to start a conversation with me with a lot of cackling and computer smarts that just made no sense.

I smiled goofily and said in my thickest accent, "Whut kinda drivin' is hard-drivin'? Sounds like some might perty words tharr, hee-ro."

"Rachel, be nice," Sam said faintly.

"Sorry. Long day. No nicotine. Little stressed out."

Then we came face to face with M.H. who reintroduced himself as Simmons. None of us were very happy to see him.

"Hey, kid," he addressed Sam with crossed arms. "I think we got off to a bad start, eh?"

He rested friendly hands on Sam and Mikaela's shoulders. "You must be hungry? You want a latte? Ho-Ho? Double venti macchiato?"

I wanted to poke an uzi in his mouth. He had one of those nasally voices you loved to hate, with an Italian accent that was a little too exaggerated.

"Where's my car?" Sam demanded.

My narrowed eyes never left Simmons. I was sort of hoping I could melt his throat with my glare, but it didn't look promising, seeing as how he was still speaking.

"Son, I need you to listen to me very carefully," another man interjected and stepped in front of Simmons. His superior. "People can die here." He paused for effect. "We need to know everything you know. We need to know it now."

Sam nodded and sniffed, scuffling his feet. "Okay. But first I'll take my car, my parents."

I laced my fingers together and grinned around the unlit cigarette. You go boy. Don't fall for it right off the bat.

He looked at Simmons. "You might wanna write that down. Oh, and her juvie record."

He looked at Mikaela briefly. Her lips parted in shock. "Yeah, that's got to be gone. Like forever."

He twisted around the other way and jabbed a thumb at me. My grin fell in surprise. What could I want?

"And she's gonna need a new motorcycle. Yup. And she's never gonna pay a cent on it. Or insurance. Or for college. Got me?"

Mikaela and I met eyes briefly, then continued staring at him. When did he become so responsible? My heart did flutter a little, though. College without paying? I... could really use that.

Simmons' superior chuckled under his breath and took Sam by the shoulders. "Come with me. We'll talk about your car."

He patted Sam's shoulder and walked towards the door at the end of the stone walkway.

"Sam, you didn't have to add me in there," I shook my head and squeezed his bicep.

"Thank you," Mikaela breathed, her smile radiant with affection.

He just smiled between us and ducked his head.

Inside we met with another group, this one escorting men in military uniforms and the United States Secretary of Defense. The day just kept getting stranger. The whole lot of us were led down through the powerhouse to the river than ran outside the dam, the three of us kids bringing up the back as we went through a large tunnel at the end of the walkway.

"Alright, here's the situation," Simmons in the front started loud enough for everyone to hear. "You've all had direct contact with the NBEs."

"NBEs?" One of the soldiers questioned.

"Non-biological extra-terrestrials. Try to keep up with the acronyms."

We came to the end of the tunnel into an enormous cavern cut into the wall of the cliff, covered floor to ceiling in mechanical engineering more advanced than anything I'd ever seen in movies. But that wasn't what disturbed me the most. It took a second for it to click what that giant, dark bot probably was.

I nudged Sam weakly. "Sam, is that-?"

"Yeah." He swallowed thickly.

"Dear God, what is this?" the Secretary gasped.

"We think," Simmons' boss explained as he led us closer to the frozen Decepticon leader, " when he made his approach over the North Pole our gravitational field screwed up his telemetry. He crashed in the ice, probably a few thousand years ago. We shipped him here to this facility in 1934."

"We call him NBE-1," Simmons added proudly.

Sam spoke up when I held my tongue. How does that work?

"Well, sir, I don't mean to correct you on everything you think you know, but..." Sam crossed his arms. Somehow, in our awe, we'd made our way to the front of the pack. "But, you know, that's Megatron. He's the leader of the Decepticons."

"The bad guys," I added helpfully.

Simmons' boss nodded. He didn't really care. God, I needed a lit cigarette.

"He's been in cryostasis since 1935. You're great-great-grandfather made one of the greatest discoveries in the history of mankind." He put Sam into a whole new light, even in my eyes.

"And yet you guys threw him in an asylum," I snorted, arms crossed under my breasts. The bandages were starting to come loose.

The man pursed his lips, but said nothing.

"Fact is, you're looking at the source of the modern age." Simmons sneered at me. Wait till I get a lighter, dude. Just wait. "The microchip, lasers, spaceflight, cars, all reverse-engineered by studying him. NBE-1."

He leaned in close to Sam, brows raised, looking for a challenge. "That's what _we _call it."

"And you're wrong," I snapped, temper bubbling in my throat. "As much as you think you know, Honcho, we _kids_ probably know more than you because we TALKED to the dreaded NBEs, we didn't torture them into compliance."

He took the two steps needed to get in my face next, not even noticing the way my fists balled up at the close proximity. "Because we have the power here, kid. Not you."

"Power? POWER?" My teeth bit through the filter of the cigarette in my fury. "And WHY do you think the Decepticons are hellbent on destroying us? It couldn't POSSIBLY be because we're all such GOOD people, like YOU."

"Keep the attitude up, little girl," he snarled, leaning so close our noses almost touched. Sour breath seared my face. "And I'll freeze you into compliance along with your precious NBE."

"Back the fuck up," Sam deadpanned.

It was the first time I'd heard him cuss so openly, at least when I hadn't snuck him a beer. Surprise bled into my anger, and I glanced at him. His dark eyes were blazing as he pushed Simmons away by the shoulder, and I finally got a peek at all of his turmoil beneath the little kid costume.

"Hey, this is not the time-"

Sam and I both ignored Simmons' boss. It took Mikaela's hands on our arms for us to back away, Sam more slowly than I, because it was his car, his guardian, his responsibility. I felt a small tingle of remorse, knowing that my breaking point had caused his. Mikaela's sensibility seemed to keep my cool, so I clenched her hand tight in mine. Sam did the same with her other hand. Relief and affection for the both of them flooded me into silence.

Secretary Keller was obviously agitated as he confronted the head of the facility. "And you didn't think the United States government needed to know that you're keeping a hostile alien robot frozen in the basement?"

The Sector Seven leader shook his head. "Until recent events we had no credible threat to national security."

The Secretary threw his arms up. "Well you got one now."

"So why Earth?" a different soldier from the first one asked.

"It's the All Spark," Sam answered.

"All Spark?" Keller demanded. "What is that?"

"Well, yeah," Sam faltered a little, then found his bearings again with another squeeze of Mikaela's hand. "They came here looking for some sort of cube-looking thing. Anyway, Mr. NBE-1, aka _Megatron_ - " he looked Simmons dead in the eye, " - that's what THEY call him, who's pretty much the harbinger of death, wants to use the Cube to transform human technology to take over the universe. That's their plan."

Was it just me or did Simmons look like someone had pulled his Alaskan boxers up his ass?

"And you're sure about that?" he pressed.

"Yeah." Sam frowned.

I stared at the man and had to let go of Mikaela's hand, or I'd break a bone. "You know where it is don't you?"

Simmons and his boss just looked at me. The pause that followed was deafening. Score one for the neighbor.

Sam scrubbed a hand down his face. "You've gotta be kidding me."

"Follow me," boss sighed.

"You're about to see our crown jewel," Simmons announced, leading all but his guards into a room off to the side of Megatron's containment chamber.

Chills ran up my bare arms when I suddenly remembered Optimus' hologram. I wasn't a religious person, but I'd been doing an awful lot of praying lately. Now I prayed that that monster never thawed out.

We piled into the room and the first thing that attracted my attention were the glass windows that gave us a perfect first view of the All Spark.

I squeezed myself tighter. It had to be at least the length of a single football field on all six sides. Intricate carvings made up the outside of the cube. Fancy cherry pickers were scattered around the giant clamps holding the Cube suspended in the air. The people inside them were shocking the All Spark like that was suppose to magically make it bend to their will.

How were we suppose to keep something so out-of-this-world big from Decepticons? With such intellectuals as these hard at work tasing it?

"Carbon-dating puts the Cube here around 10,000 BC. The First Seven didn't find it until 1913." The boss came up behind us. "They knew it was alien because of the matching hieroglyphics on the Cube as well as NBE-1. President Hoover had the dam built around it. Four football fields thick of concrete, a perfect way to hide its energy from being detected by anyone or any alien species on the outside."

"So you put it right beside the single most evil motherfucker in the universe. That makes perfect sense," I muttered, arms crossed.

"You know what, I've had about enough of that attitude-" Simmons wanted to go? Really? He was too skinny for it to be a fair fight.

"Wait, you said it hides the Cube's energy," the blonde, Maggie, interrupted in her thick accent. Sam's hand on my shoulder simmered my temper. A little. "What kind exactly?"

"Good question."

We were herded into yet another room beside that one where a clear glass box centered the room. I walked around the box and glanced inside.

"Step inside quickly. They have to lock us in."

Well, that just made me feel all warm and tingly inside. Mikaela stood beside me as goggles were passed around. "You okay, Rach?"

I rubbed the rest of my old mascara off with my fists and sighed heavily. "Yeah, I'll be okay. Just need some nicotine. I'm.. worried, about Bumblebee."

Noticing how bothered I was, she changed the subject as we pulled on our goggles. "How're the bandages holding up?"

"Uhm, loosely. They should be okay. Thanks for asking."

She nodded as the conversation around us finally quieted and Simmons asked for a phone. Glen offered his, and we got the show back on track. I reined in my temper since it wasn't getting us anywhere. I rationalized that we'd probably save Bee sooner if I wasn't starting fights to vent my frustrations. It was a long way off, but hey, I was maturing. That lasted all of thirty seconds. The phone coming to life and trying to blast through the glass wasn't what disturbed me the most. It was the shock they gave it that killed it.

I tore the goggles off and looked at Sam, seeing my own panic mirrored with his and Mikaela's. We needed to find Bumblebee. Fast.

Before we could voice the demand, the whole room thumped and the lights flickered.

Keller looked at the boss. "Gentlemen, they know the Cube is here."

Chaos.

We were pushed as a group to an arms room, where several assault vehicles were gunning up. I slapped Sam in the chest with the back of my hand. "We need Bumblebee, Sam, now."

He ran up to Simmons. "You need to take me to my car. I have to get to my car. He's gonna know what to do with the Cube."

"You're car?" Simmons snickered. "It's confiscated."

"Un-confiscate him," I snapped angrily. This man was royally pissing me off all over again. Now was not the time to brag and exercise your supposed 'authority'.

"We do not know what will happen if we let it near this thing!" Simmons shouted smugly, popping shells into some big gun that I was not afraid of. Totally not.

"YOU don't know!"

"Well maybe YOU know, but I don't know!" he continued protesting and waving his hand in our faces.

"You just wanna sit in here?" Sam yelled.

"Just wait and see what happens?" I laughed in astonishment. "That car saved our asses when you almost killed us and you want to keep him locked up like the sons-of-bitches currently blowing us up?"

"I have LIVES at stake here-!"

"TAKE him to his CAR," a soldier bit out, grabbing Simmons by the front of his vest and slamming him against the hum-vee behind him. His fatigues read 'Lennox'.

One of Simmons' men trained his rifle on Lennox. It was the domino affect of rifles. Everybody was suddenly pointing one at everybody. Our completely unarmed group backed up, Sam's arms coming out in front of Mikaela and I protectively.

"Whoa whoa whoa!" The boss held his hands up, trying to placate a room full of high-strung soldiers.

"Drop the weapon, soldier," Simmons hissed, and with delight I took note of the quiver in his voice. "You gonna shoot me? When we've got an alien war going on over our heads?"

Just shoot him. PLEASE. Just shoot him.

"Hey, we didn't ask to be here." Lennox made a good point.

"Soldier, I am ORDERING you under S-Seven jurisdiction to lower your weapon!"

"S-Seven don't exist." His dark-skinned partner smirked in satisfaction. His label read Epps. I really liked these two.

"Yeah that's right, and we don't take orders from people who don't exist."

I LOVED them, actually.

Simmons was grasping at very thin straws when he said, "I'm gonna count to five. Okay?"

Oh, right, talk to the guy with a gun on you like he's a bad little child, that'll help you.

"Yeah? Well I'm gonna count to three." I think three wins.

The floor shook again. I looked down and shuffled my feet. As much fun as it was to watch Simmons wet himself...

"Simmons?" Keller said in exasperation.

"Yes, sir?"

"I'd do what he says," Keller leaned forward. "Losing's really not an option for these guys."

Simmons bug-eyes widened even further, if that was possible. He nodded hesitantly. "Yeah. Okay. You wanna lay the fate of the world on the kid's Camaro? Okay. That's cool."

I was not ready to stomach what we walked into. I should have prepared myself better, I mean, I'd seen Megatron and the little Nokia with it's ant-sized bullets and what they were being put through. It just hadn't registered in my mind yet, because they were the bad guys, and Bumblebee was not. I subconsciously assumed he wouldn't be treated that way, since he'd only expressed concern over the three of us instead of trying to kill us. Oh, I hate being ignorant.

"Bumblebee!" I yelped in horror. The sounds he was creating were mind-numbing. Chills ran down my spine and I broke into a cold sweat. How could they? When big bad Bumblebee was screaming like that, how could they STAND it?

"STOP STOP STOP! LET HIM GO!" Sam roared, pushing at the guys electrocuting the bot.

"Let him go!" Boss demanded. "Stop!"

Sam ran up to the platform Bumblebee was held down on, Mikaela and I at his heels. Bumblebee lifted himself slowly, optics racing when they finally backed away and stopped hurting him. He looked down at us and made a few inquiring noises.

He was alive. Something in my chest unwound with relief. I blew out a breath and waved when he looked down. "Hey, sexy."

He hummed in return.

"Please, please, PLEASE stop flirting with the robot." Sam threw his arms out in defeat and turned back to Bumblebee. "Hey. They didn't hurt you right?"

Sam... God. Although I guess it was a valid question. Did robots have nerve endings that could feel pain? It sure as hell sounded like it when we walked into the room. Bumblebee was screaming. _Screaming._

Bumblebee glanced backward around the rest of the room and seemed to lose it. The top of his head fell down into a helmet and his right arm shifted into a cannon. Was not expecting that. That was an Ironhide thing. He swung the cannon in wary warning at the rest of the room, his tormentors and the soldiers bracing with their guns.

"No no no! No, they're okay, see?" Sam tried, arms raised. "They're not gonna hurt you. Okay?"

When that didn't seem to work, and we had to back up as Bumblebee rolled to his knee to get a better sweep of the room with his cannon. Sam tried, "Listen to me, the Cube is here and the Decepticons are coming."

It made the yellow bot pause, but not power down.

"Bumblebee, listen," I pleaded as we backed away. Every little word from familiar faces seemed to slow his progress.

"Put the guns down," Sam said, sweeping an arm toward the door. "Come on, I'm gonna take you to the Cube."

His face mask finally flipped back up after a hard look at Sam. Thankfully. Ironhide, I was use to pointing cannons at us. I didn't even know Bumblebee had cannons.

We made a mad dash for the room the Cube was held in, Sam and Mikaela taking the front while I stayed close at Bumblebee's heels. I didn't trust trigger-happy scientists. Those three words together just SOUND wrong.

When we stopped, and Bumblebee came face-to-face with the All Spark, he 'ooh'-ed like E.T. and lifted his arms up to fiddle with the hieroglyphics. An initial shock caused him to flinch, then a blue wave of energy rippled across the whole thing. The whole giant box shifted and moaned. From my point-of-view behind Bumblebee I could see the Cube beginning to curl in on itself in much smaller fractions from the top, over and over, shrinking in Bumblebee's hands.

"Oh my God," Mikaela breathed in wonder.

Of all the things that had happened to us in the past forty-eight hours, this wasn't what I would have expected to be the most dazzling. But it was. Knowing what the All Spark contained and actually seeing an example of that were two different things. The air crackled with energy as the box finally shrunk into a size that could fit in the palm of Bumblebee's hand. I ran fingers through my hair to keep it from frizzing. Somewhere during the run I'd dropped my chew toy. I tugged at curls instead. It helped. A little.

Bumblebee, seeming satisfied when the Cube stopped shocking him with backlash energy, radio spoke to the rest of the room: "Message from Starfleet, Captain - Let's get to it."

Lennox stepped down from the platform he was on. "He's right, we stay here we're screwed with Megatron in the other hangar. Mission City is twenty-two miles away."

He pointed in the general direction of said city. "We're gonna sneak that Cube out of here, and we're gonna hide it somewhere in the city."

Keller quickly agreed, acting skittish. He, like the rest of us, just wanted to get the hell out of Dodge.

"But we can't make a stand without the Air Force."

Well, shit.

Keller had an idea. He turned to Simmons. "This place must have some kind of radio link!"

Simmons nodded slowly, as if it was dawning on him too. "Yes!"

"Yes!" Keller was getting excited now too. "Shortwave! CB!"

"Right, yes."

"You gotta figure some way to get word out to them," Lennox stated, then turned around to his men. "Let's move!"

"In the alien archive, sir!" Simmons was rushing, as the three Airmen took off. "Ther's an ooold Army radio console."

"Will it work?"

"Anything's possible!" He gestured wildly to where the Cube had been, but we'd followed the Airmen and their voices grew distant.

"Alright, Sam and company, get in the car!" Lennox started throwing orders out to his men after that.

Bumblebee had shifted and stood waiting for us in camaro form. I dove in the passenger side and climbed in the back seat, Mikaela helping me untangle my foot from the stick shift in my rush. Sam jumped in and we were going. Up a tunnel that never seemed to end, we came out into the sunlight on a road that lined the side of the rock wall leading away from the Dam. Bumblebee led the way with military gun cars, I had no idea what they were called, two or three of them bringing up the rear.

Sam twisted around to check on the Cube. "Cube's okay?"

"Yeah," I nodded quickly, holding the humming box tightly in my lap. "Is it suppose to vibrate, though?"

"Yeah, I- I guess. Just don't blow it up."

Remembering how Bumblebee had randomly touched the hieroglyphics to get it to move, my hands tightened around it. "I'm smoking."

"Alright, well, just strap the Cube in." He leaned over the passenger seat. "Put the seat belt on it."

I did so quickly, shakily, then climbed up front to the driver's side where they still wouldn't sit.

"Rachel, he's driving."

"He IS the car," I said slowly, staring at him. "I don't think me sitting in an empty seat is gonna affect him BEING the CAR."

"It's just - It's just weird, alright?"

I fished for my cigarettes in my back pockets. Only three left. My 'tru luv' zippo was stuffed in my front pocket when I got really desperate looking for it. God, I hate my blonde moments. I lit up, and didn't even have to roll the window down. Bumblebee did it for me.

"Thanks."

"So where are we going to hide this thing? Can't they sense it?" Mikaela asked from the other side of Sam, baby blues eyeing me curiously.

I blinked at her and shrugged in a 'what?' gesture.

"We just gotta hide it until the cavalry comes in," Sam said, pulling Mikaela back onto his lap so that we could all be part of the conversation. "You know, the Air Force and Optimus."

"That's true," I murmured, blowing my smoke out the window.

"That's a terrible habit, you know."

"I know, Sam. You've been ragging on me since I started."

"It's from hanging out with all those seedy people."

"Co-workers at Burger King? Yeah, they're so seedy."

"You need a babysitter."

"Why? I'm a perfect example of a model citizen."

"Says the girl who built a homemade cannon in her backyard and shot BB's at the poor neighborhood birds."

"I hate birds. That's my racial outlet."

"You guys are like brother and sister, you know that?"

"I know," we both grimaced at the same time. "Tumor," I added.

Sam leaned out the window, taking Mikaela with him, prompting me to do the same. "There's Optimus!"

Sure enough, the big kahuna himself was headed in our direction. We passed the whole line of Autbots and all three of us hung our heads out the window. One by one, they U-turned at an impossible angle behind the big black pick-up full of soldiers that I hadn't noticed earlier. Bumblebee revved and 'Highway to Hell' started blasting. I laughed.

"Yeah, great Bee, that makes me feel so much better," Sam sighed.

"I like his humor."

"Of course you do, Rachel, you've got a crush on my car."

I didn't respond, taking another long, thoughtful drag on my cigarette. Did I? It was quiet save for Bumblebee's radio until we made it onto the freeway. Mikaela kept looking at me in that knowing way that all girls gave to other girls. I ignored it. Tried very hard to ignore it. I did NOT have a crush on a car. Cars could be sexy, but they weren't exactly, y'know, relationship material. I glanced in the side mirror to see where the rest of our little party was on the road, trying to keep myself distracted, and instead saw something I thought we were already done with.

"Oh, fuck a duck, Sam."

"What?" We all twisted around in the seat. That same cold stone settled back in my stomach.

"It's the same cop!" he shouted. No shit.

And he had brought a friend.

* * *

><p>I could not, for the life of me, remember the name of Simmons' boss. I really couldn't. And it didn't occure to me until just now that I could have watched the movie again, the scene where this guy storms Secretary Keller's place and introduces himself, but the damage is done. He's just 'the tall balding guy' to me now. xD Hurray, squirelly attention spans.<p>

Also. I tried to give Mikeala more screen time in my version, because, come on, she gets nothing almost. She's just 'Sam's crush', despite how awesome she could be. I kind of loathe Megan Fox, but I like Mikaela's character. Go figure.

Questions? Comments?


	6. Chapter 6: Pain

WELL. Here's six. I was a LITTLE pressured into posting it. XD She knows who she is.

I wasn't really sure what more I could add to it. Once again I was completely cruel to Rachel. For those who haven't gotten it through their heads yet, I am NOT ending it after the first movie. Like I said, there's two years between the movies, which I will cover, then there's the second movie, and, finally the new third movie coming out this summer! HOLY FSK, I'M SO EXCITED. Last summer, when I worked at a truck stop on I-41, a flatbed truck carrying Optimus' truck and the new green Ratchet came through for gas. I even filmed it. Check on youtube, look up 'vallin55amaya'. That's my youtube name. I was so excited I totally abandoned my post behind the counter and stalked the flatbed to the pumps. xD The driver told my manager and me that they had just gotten done filming for the third movie and were on their way back west. I WAS FOAMING AT THE MOUTH. I SWEAR.

Cough. Anyway. Something I haven't done yet - DISCLAIMER. As much as I might absolutely love the transformers, I do not own them or the movie rights. Those go to Hasbro. :D

* * *

><p>Coming up on the other side of the freeway was a pile of cars that fell apart to reveal the huge military vehicle shoving his way closer.<p>

"Don't think that's here to help us."

"Block him, block him in, block him in!"

Optimus slammed on his breaks and transformed right there in the middle of the freeway. But the Decepticon had done the same thing and tackled the smaller bot into the asphalt. It was like they were fighting in regular ol' dirt, the way the road crumbling underneath their weight and chunks of asphalt flew into the innocent motorists around us. The two bots went tumbling over the side of the overpass and to the roads below. The last thing we saw was Optimus' hand clinging to the side before they fell.

"Is he gonna be okay?" Mikaela asked worriedly.

"Have faith, my children, have faith!" a preacher admonished from the radio.

"Yeah, okay." I threw my cigarette butt out the window and lit up another one. I needed my daily dose of nicotine for the day before I couldn't get it anymore.

"OH, SHIT, SHAKE THAT ASS!" DJ Nobe started roaring from my phone. I jumped and fumbled the lighter out the window.

"DAMMIT." I dug around for my phone in the other back pocket and flipped it open. "Mom? I'm kinda busy, here!"

"RACHEL SHAWN, I HAVE GIVEN YOU TWENTY-FOUR HOURS TO THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU'VE DONE AND YOU DON'T THINK THIS MUCH! GET YOUR LITTLE WHITE ASS HOME, NOW!"

I flushed in embarrassment as Sam and Mikaela smirked. Mostly Sam.

"Mom, I'm in the middle of an alien apocalypse right now, I'll have to call you back." Click. "Not a word, Samuel Witwicky. Not a word."

He shook his head and looked out the window innocently. "I didn't say a single thing. Your mom just loves you."

He was mocking my tone from the earlier conversation about his dad. "If the Decepticons don't kill us today, you better move in with Mikaela. Bee, do you have a lighter?"

He did. One of those push-in lighters built into the dash. I managed to finish that cigarette before we got back into town. It was the middle of the day and busy as hell. Not the best site for a giant robot throw-down. It was the best we were gonna get, though. The entire convoy stopped in the middle of the street, just as a fighter jet flew low overhead. I couldn't remember ever seeing a jet fly that low within any busy city though.

We all climbed out as two soldiers popped green smoke, Lennox shouting into an ancient radio giving the pilot directions. He didn't seem to be getting any answer.

"I don't think that's one of ours," I said slowly.

Sure enough, when the jet made another pass, Ironhide transformed and shouted, "It's Starscream!"

"Please tell me you copy," Epps begged slowly into the radio.

Bumblebee went into bot mode behind us as Lennox and Epps screamed for everyone to fall back.

"Bumblebee!" Ironhide yelled. They took hold of a toy truck's trailer and lifted it onto it's back tires as a flimsy shield, just as the jet was coming back around. "Take cover! Move back!"

Sam grabbed Mikaela and I by the arm and we dodged around the military assault vehicles.

The jet fired two missiles, and everyone booked it behind the military trucks. They should've kept running.

BOOM. CRASH. BOOM.

I was thrown off my feet and into the windshield of a sedan in front of me. I couldn't hear anything but the ringing in my ears, or see anything through the cloud of debris the impact caused. My eyes rolled when I tried to focus. Somehow I'd flipped and was upside down, my back having crushed the windshield in. More glass stuck into my back. I was going to look like I'd been put through a meat grinder after this was all finished.

I rolled slowly, the screams of the general public coming in distantly, as if from miles away. My legs slid over the side of the car and I crumbled to the ground on my knees. Sam and Mikaela were on the ground in front of me. I half-walked, half-crawled toward them as they started to move. Sam's hand found Mikaela's, probbing to see if she was alright.

"Rachel?" he shouted, turning his head painfully to look for me.

"I'm alright," I gasped, stopping between them on my knees. "You guys okay?"

"Yeah," Mikaela moaned, lifting herself slowly.

"Anyone hurt? Everyone okay? Clear the area!"

I forced my knees to lift me and grabbed Sam's shoulder when I stumbled. "Sam, Bee."

Sure enough, as the smoke cleared, we could see Bumblebee beside us, the blast having thrown him into a wall with an armored truck between the two.

"Oh my God," Sam cried, stumbling to him. "Bumblebee, you're legs!"

Bumblebee dislodged himself from the crushed truck and crawled forward slowly on his hands, dragging the remains of his legs behind him. Bile clogged my throat.

"Oh, God, he's fucked up," I whimpered, pushing on Jazz's hood. "Back up back up!"

"Get up," Sam begged, standing in front of the crippled bot. "Come on, Bee, get up! Ratchet!"

"Oh, Bee." The tormentors at the dam were nothing compared to this. Both of my dirty, sweating palms rested on one of his fingers as he stopped and panted mechanically through his mouth piece. His blue optics flickered, and he yipped at me. I got the feel he was trying to reassure us. Wasn't working. We both backed up as he tried to get leverage with his arms, Mikaela side-stepping around to stand between Sam and I.

"Come on Bee, you gotta get up!" Sam pleaded, arms working in the air, desperate to help somehow and unable to. "You gotta get up, you're okay! You're okay!"

"That thing's gonna come back, Bee, we've gotta get you out of here," I insisted, twisting around and ignoring the pains of my body. "What the hell is THAT?"

Another Decepticon was firing rounds at us, this time from the ground in a big ass tank. It crushed a parked car with ease and nearly ran over several idiotic people who were running back and forth in front of it. We could NOT catch a break, could we?

Ratchet and Jazz zoomed past as the soldiers began falling back again. Sam ran to Bumblebee, leaving me and Mikaela to sniffle on the sidewalk. We couldn't leave Bumblebee. I wouldn't.

I looked around desperately for something, anything, even a gun the soldiers left behind to defend ourselves with. Instead, I found something that made hope leap in my throat. "Mikaela."

She wiped a hand under her nose and followed my line of sight. I looked at her, and her eyes were bright with understanding. "Got it."

Sam was on the ground with Bumblebee, tears streaming down his face. "I'm not gonna leave you," I heard him insist as I got closer and Mikaela ran for the tow truck. Bumblebee shakily handed Sam the All Spark, the little piece of junk we were all dying for. I was full of hate that day, it seemed.

"Sam, you don't have to," I said happily, falling to my knees beside him. "We've got a plan."

I stood up and looked around for the tank, only to hoop with joy. The other three Autobots were tag teaming him, and doing a damn good job of it despite him being so much bigger. The bigger they are, the harder they fall. I grinned like an idiot when the tank went down. But it didn't last long.

"It's Megatron!"

"Fall back!"

"Mikaela!" I screamed. Jazz took the lead as second in command, standing his ground and firing at the monster with everything he had. Megatron blasted him away with one shot. The skirmish didn't last long. Megatron, three times the size of the Solstice bot, took to the air with Jazz in tow. I struggled to swallow the lump of dread in my throat that said I'd never see the rapper bot again.

Mikaela screeched up in the tow truck and leapt out. "Guys, help me with this."

Sam jumped up on the back of the truck slung a cable over Bumblebee's shoulders. "Okay, put that one around his head. Bring this other one under-"

"Sam, where's the Cube?" Lennox shouted as the soldiers back-tracked around us. "That tank's getting back up!"

"Sonnuva-" I ground out as I brought one of the heavy cables around Bumblebee's back and Mikaela locked the whole mess together.

"It's right here!" Sam answered, gesturing beside him on the truck.

"Okay. Epps get those Black Hawks here!" Lennox stopped at the line of wreckage and looked in a wide circle at all the buildings. "That building."

We all looked where he pointed. It was an old museum, I thought was abandoned.

"Okay."

"What?" Sam snapped.

"Sam, I can't leave my guys back there, so here, take this flare." He passed Sam a stick and I had the cold feeling that I knew what he was going to ask of my favorite neighbor. "That big white building with the statues on top, I need you to get to the roof and light the flare, signal the Black Hawks."

"What?" I saw it coming, but still couldn't believe it. Sixteen-year-old Sam who couldn't grow a mustache? What?

"No, I can't do this," Sam laughed in disbelief and held the flare out. "I can't."

Lennox grabbed Sam by the collar and jerked him down. "Listen, like it or not you're a soldier now! Alright? I need you to take the Cube-" he shoved the Cube into Sam's chest "-and get it into military hands, alright? Or a lot of people are going to die."

"Sam!" I shouted for attention. When he looked over his shoulder at me, desperate for an answer, I was checking the cables on Bumblebee's chest, teeth gritting because I had to see Lennox's side of it. "Fifty years from now, remember?"

He stared at me openly, then cursed and slid off the truck. Lennox turned to us next. "You two need to get out of here, now. Go!"

"We're DOING something here," I snapped back, giving Bumblebee's chest plate a smack. "You think that's good, big guy? Feel alright?"

He nodded his big head and hummed.

"We're not leaving Bumblebee," Mikaela hissed in Lennox's face, and when I gave her the thumbs up she walked briskly around the front to meet up with Sam. Lennox stared after her in shock, then looked at me. I raised both eyebrows in a 'What're you gonna do about it?' expression and gave Bumblebee another thump to the chest as Ironhide spoke, Ratchet nodding beside him.

"Sam, we will protect you."

"Okay," Sam nodded. He squeaked a little. I pursed my lips, heart pounding. So much could go wrong. I hated agreeing with Lennox. Sam had flunked his mile-run in high school, had flunked his driving test three times before managing to barely score enough points with a lucky parallel park. It was hard to move past all my insecurities about the situation to trust my gut.

"Sam!" Mikaela shouted as Sam came around the back to pass me and Bumblebee.

He skidded to a stop and looked around in surprise. "What? What now?"

Mikaela jogged up to him and took him by the front of his jacket, and I thought she would kiss him. Now wasn't a good time, and she seemed to realize it. "Whatever happens, I'm really glad I got in that car with you."

I couldn't help it. "D'aww."

Bumblebee gave a strangled sound that resembled a laugh. It gave me a little more hope about the situation that he could laugh in his state.

"We're gonna take care of you this time, big sexy. Alright?" I smacked his shoulder as he nodded, and jumped over his legs to climb in the passenger seat. Mikaela joined me soon after in the driver's seat, looking too worn down for her age. "He'll be okay."

She looked over at me as we started up. I nodded firmly. "Of all people, Sam is the most full of surprises. Good surprises. He'll do this. We gotta do our part."

She sniffed and looked back out the windshield with a nod. We made a tight U-turn and swung around the pile of destroyed rubble just as a Decepticon stomped down the street shooting more missiles. I clung to the door handle as we turned, then twisted in my seat to check on Bumblebee. "He's good."

We slid into an alley, back of the truck clipping the brick side of a building as Mikaela sped. I held on tight, nerves frying a little every time we dodged a dumpster or ladder. We rounded another corner, where we could barely hear the sounds of battle, and she slammed on the brakes. I caught myself on the dashboard with an "Oof!"

Mikaela banged her head on the steering wheel, gasping for breath as she tried to steady herself. I understood her feelings, but... I wasn't sure how to help.

"Mikaela," I murmured, touching her shoulder hesitantly. I didn't know how she would respond to physical reassurance. We barely spoke in school, other than the 'hey, what's up?' of teenagers. But robot battles straight out of a sci-fi comic tend to bring people together.

"Look at me."

She lifted her head, and I was reminded that she and Sam were both still kids. I was almost nineteen. I had to be the adult I kept claiming I was. My jaw clenched tightly and I steeled myself. "Don't do that. Sam needs us to believe in him or he'll never make it. The good guys always win, right? Remember Hitler? We kicked his ass. Megatron is like that, only he hates everybody, blondes included."

I rolled my eyes and flicked a curl, managing to make her smile a little. "Now, I dunno about you, but I don't want to sit here and hide in an alley way while he risks everything to protect us. Do you?"

Her eyes hardened. Good. She believed the little speech that I wasn't feeling one hundred percent. That strengthened my conviction a little. She sniffed one more time, then looked out the back window where Bumblebee was watching us over his shoulder. He looked at Mikaela. Was he watching me before? My face heated a little. Great, he was listening to my hero speech, too. He nodded at us and brandished his cannon arm. She nodded once and jerked the truck into drive. "Let's go."

We sped out of the alley and onto the street, making a sharp right back into the heart of the battle. She looked back at Bumblebee. "I'll drive, you shoot."

She threw the truck into reverse, talking to me next. "Rach, keep an eye on the cables, make sure we don't lose him."

"Got it." I ripped my shirt off and wrapped it around my fist as Bumblebee shoved cars out of his way with what was left of his legs. I used the shirt to wipe out the leftover glass in the back window, ducked down as low as I could to stay out of her sight in the rearview. Now wasn't the time to feel self-concious of my little muffin-top under the bandages. I tucked the top of the bandages under to keep them in place and kept a hand on the controls of the cables on the middle console. The whole truck rattled as he fired blast after blast at the giant monster.

"Shit," Mikaela cursed, jerking the wheel to avoid a small pile of cars that were stuck on the bridge. Soldiers were hunkered down in a building to the left, keeping the Decepticon confused as he was showered with bullets and cannon fire from all different directions.

"Yee-hah, bitch!" I hooped, unable to contain myself.

Mikaela jerked the wheel again and I crashed back against my door.

"Sorry!"

"You say that a lot..."

BOOM.

One of Bumblebee's cannon shots hit the evil bot directly in the center of his chest, right where all of the giant bots had glowing orbs. I was guessing it was the heart, because the tank went down. Hard. Right on top of Lennox and his men. Bumblebee cringed and made a rattling noise that sounded like 'oops'.

We screeched to a stop when we reached the soldiers and the downed Decepticon. Mikaela and I hopped out of the truck.

"Nice shot," she gave Bumblebee as his arm transformed back into a hand.

She leaned into the shattered window where the soldiers were. I stopped beside Bumblebee with my hands on my hips and a grin, tank top back on. "Nice shootin', Tex." I lifted my hand in the air palm facing him. He looked down at his hand quizzically, then lifted it to mirror mine. I smacked the heel of his big metal palm and laughed. "High five. It's how we say 'good job'. Got it?"

He shrugged and my attention went back to Mikaela and the soldiers.

"That tank is definitely down now," Lennox bark-laughed, then turned back to his people. "Alright let's go, we got business!"

I started to follow, then did a double-take. They were leaving a grenade launcher behind. It still had rounds in it. It couldn't hurt, I rationalized, reaching in through the window to lug the weapon through the window. I tested the weight in my hands. Three rounds left in it. I checked the sights to familiarize myself as the soldiers began moving.

Bumblebee was giving me a look. I hefted the launcher on my shoulder and smiled. "Couldn't be too much different than Call of Duty, right?"

His metal eyelids twitched over his left optic.

"Dude, have some faith."

I glanced between the soldiers and Mikaela, and made my snap decision.

"Mikaela, stay with Bee."

"What're you going to do?"

"Fuck if I know, but I've got a GRENADE launcher!" I shouted over my shoulder.

"She is way too happy about that," I heard her mutter right before I ducked in an alleyway after the soldiers. I really didn't know what I could do. It didn't really matter. I'd shot my grampa's Browning pump action shot gun enough times that I could aim decently and handle some kick.

When I caught up with them I hung back, watching Epps and Lennox crouch down beside a Yamaha bike. Epps was shining yet another Decepticon with a green laser light while Lennox directed F-22's in the sky to attack the marked target. The bot was headed for Optimus, whom I recognized as Megatron slung him into a building. Where was Sam?

The giant bot finally noticed the green laser. Life wasn't going to make this easy on anyone.

He roared and swung around, firing off missiles in our general direction. The laser flew out of Epps hands as he hoisted his grenade launcher instead. My eyes fell on the bike. Was I really going to?

I looked up and met Lennox's gaze. He started to shake his head even as I dove for the bike, key still in the ignition.

"What're you doing?" he roared furiously, reaching for my shoulder. "No FUCKING way!"

"Oh, right, cuz God forbid a woman do something out of the box?" I screamed back at him, revving the bike with the grenade launcher hefted in my left hand. "You sent Sam to his death, and you KNOW it, now you won't let me choose for myself? If you're so fucking worried about it then get on!"

"You'll die!"

"Sacrifice the one for the many, right?" I retaliated hotly.

He snarled a curse, then climbed on behind me. "You would make a God-awful soldier, you know that?"

I let him clamp his legs on the pipes and burned rubber. It jerked his head back. "Sonuva-"

"You're right! I would!" I called over my shoulder and squeezed the body of the bike with my knees, shutting my brain down to work on instinct. Not only was I dodging cannon blasts and mini-missiles from an alien robot, I was swinging around demolished cars and more idiotic people who hadn't realized quite yet that they should probably get out of the fucking area with one hand.

"Get between it's legs!" Lennox shouted over the wind whipping past us.

"Roger!"

We were a hundred feet away when missiles flew through the sky and slammed into the bot. F-22s. Finally. But that also sent him flailing and shooting randomly. Lennox was leaning forward against me to shoot his launcher, hitting the thing low while the jets hit high. The Decepticon roared his fury and took a swipe at us with one big arm that threw off my balance.

"Slide! Slide! Slide!" I shouted and slung us around onto the side of the bike, directly underneath the bot.

I slid across the asphalt on my side, barely managing to keep my wits enough to shoot the three rounds in my launcher at his knee joint. Two hit the mark, the third flying wide and into a building, but it was just enough. Gears whined and shrieked as the joint gave in. Lennox on my right was on his back and shooting directly up into the bot's crotch. Ouch. It did much more damage, though.

The thing leaned forward in the opposite direction with an agonized groan and fell. Lennox shouted in victory as he rolled onto his stomach. I wasn't paying attention. He took the slide across the rubble a lot better in his military-issue armor than I did in my little tank top and jeans. I gasped for air and dug my fingers into my palm against the raging burn that had taken over the left side of my body. I jerked sporadically until I could pull the grenade launcher out from underneath me and dropped it.

"Hey, kid, you alright?" Lennox panted as he crouched behind me and touched my shoulder.

"I need a cigarette," I sobbed, trying to cover it with a laugh as he helped me roll over.

"Oh, shit."

"Is it that bad?" I gasped, even as another rumble from Optimus' fight jerked my arms out from underneath me. "Fuckin' 'ey."

"No no, you're fine, EPPS!" He shouted over me as the rest of his squad ran up along the sides of the felled Decepticon. I lifted my head wearily. "Help her. Let's move, people, move!"

* * *

><p>Like I said. Poor Rachel. First arc is almost over, WOOT. Don't get too excited, though. This is meant to be REALISTIC. Bee and Rachel aren't suddenly POW, SO IN LOVE THEY CAN'T STAND IT. It's all very slow. Just so ya'll know. xD<p>

Only thing I'm not looking forward to in the third movie, though, is Sam's new 'love interest'. I'm disappointed that there just HAS to be one. It would have been fine if Sam broke up with Mikaela to keep her safe and left it at that. Besides, this chick is a Victoria's Secret model, not an actress. Brooklyn Decker or Miranda Kerr would've been much better options. Hell, even Selena Gomez would have garnered more respect from me. I guess we'll just have to see how it goes. But I'm not looking forward to her. -.- I pray I'm pleasantly surprised. What do ya'll think?


	7. Chapter 7: The End

Rather short chapter. Sorry about that. Obviously I didn't plan the chapter lengths out very well. xD

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><p>I tried to help Epps lift me, but did more harm than good. He finally just ducked, hefting me over his shoulder like a sack of wet potatoes and ran.<p>

"Hoo, yeah," I choked sarcastically. "This feels better."

"You are one crazy white girl, y'know that?"

"I had my suspicions."

They ran until we reached the battleground. My eyes were squeezed shut and I was singing the national anthem in my head to keep myself occupied until I heard a familiar scream.

"SAM."

I shoved off of Epps' shoulder and fell against the slab of concrete Lennox leaned against, firing rounds into Megatron. The other Airmen began following his lead. Megatron was still putting up one hell of a fight, even against Optimus and the grenades, but the F-22s made another circle round and fired their hellacious missiles directly on top of him. One went through his massive shoulder. Another took out his legs. Tit for tat, fucker. He roared in pain and fell to his knees, directly over Sam.

"SAM!"

"Sam, put the Cube into my chest!" Optimus demanded, reaching for him from his prone position on the ground. I had no idea how Optimus had been put to the ground, or how in the hell Sam had gotten right there, in between the feuding bots.

Sam completely ignored him and shoved the Cube into Megatron's chestplate instead. The leader of the Decepticons howled in agony as the All Spark tore through his body, ravaging the inner workings and melding them together with its sheer, incomprehensible power. Sam's arms jerked with the effort to hold the disintegrating Cube in place, until with a jolt he was thrown back into the grill of a car. Megatron convulsed and jerked, scrabbling at his ruined chest with one hand before finally falling. Sam ducked away to avoid being crushed by Megatron's hand, and everything went still. All I could hear was the panting of the soldiers around me and the squeal of metal as Optimus stood.

He shook his big blue head down at the felled bot. "You left me no choice, brother."

I hoped he meant brother in the racial sense, otherwise this was going to be a lot more upsetting.

I forced myself up on shaking arms and limped closer to them, as Epps and Lennox surrounded Megatron's downed body with men. I couldn't blame them. An All Spark to the chest didn't look like much, especially after the tank Decepticon had gotten back up after much more of a blast. Optimus leaned down to look Sam in the eye, chest expanded with pride. "Sam, I owe you my life."

Sam shook his head a little, but Optimus continued. "We are in your debt."

I leaned my hip against a fallen marble column as Mikeala and Bumblebee pulled up beside us. She jumped out, gave Bumblebee a glance, then made a beeline for Sam. I smiled tiredly and looked up at Bumblebee.

"H-hey, sexy."

Ratchet and Ironhide came up from behind him, Ironhide holding the two remaining halves of Jazz. My eyes watered and my heart sank. I knew it. "Oh, Jazz."

Fuck this. I was an emotional and physical wreck. Again. "To hell with it," I sniffed and limped over to Bumblebee, leaning heavily against his arm. Cold metal met my hip where the jeans had been scraped away in my little fun ride. Bumblebee's hands lifted a little in surprise, then his optics narrowed on my tattered and bloody appearance.

"Are you going to be alright?"

I nodded and moved away to wobble against his knee as Sam called my name. "I'll be okay, no wo- Wait a second-"

"Permission to speak, sir?"

Optimus looked up at Bumblebee. "Permission granted, old friend."

"You speak now?" Sam and I both asked. I pointed a finger at him. "Stop doing that."

"I wish to stay with the boy," Bumblebee stated plainly, beseeching his leader with his eyes.

"If that is his choice," Optimus nodded magnanimously.

Sam glanced between Mikaela and I, a slight grin lighting his face. I smirked tiredly. What, like he'd really say no?

"Yes."

Told you.

Optimus knelt down beside Megatron's body as Lennox and his men decided there was no further danger to be had from him. They surrounded and congratulated Sam while Mikaela tsked at my fresh wounds. The bandages had been stained and torn right along with the fabric of my shirt. I held my arms crossed under my breasts in lieu of a bra and shrugged her off. "Nothing we can do about it here."

I looked up as Lennox stomped through the glass and rubble up to the tow truck. "You weren't bad out there, kid," he admitted, though it looked like it pained him to do so.

"Rachel Parker."

"It'd probably terrify the piss out of me.. But maybe you should look into signing up for the Air Force."

Fresh out of high school. Go away. "I might have to look into that."

I just wanted to go home.

One month later. Things have settled down. I'm still living next to the Witwickys. On my way to becoming an Airman. Watching Ironhide and Bumblebee, sparkling new after Ratchet reattached his legs, pull up outside the house.

Sam honks and yells out the window. "Hey Rachel!"

I look at my mother in the lawn chair beside me, overseeing the complimentary gardening services supplied by an anonymous benefactor. One man's mowing, two are planting her a perfect zen garden against the house. They're almost done and the sun is setting. She brushes blonde bangs from her sunglasses and flicks her cigarette, assessing me behind the dark lens. Then she sighs.

"Go for it, kiddo."

I grin. "Coming!"

I jog down the perfect, lush Bermuda grass in my shorts and flipflops, proudly displaying my battle scars with a bright yellow lace cami. Mikaela's in the passenger seat, grinning. "Hey, Mikaela. Hey, hero."

Sam preens under his new nickname.

"Where're you going?"

"For a drive." Sam shrugs.

"Perfect."

I climb into Ironhide. I haven't ridden in him yet. It gives Sam and Mikaela some sugar time, too.

"What's up, big kahuna?"

"Looks like you're adjusting well."

"Life is sweet when you have your financial shit taken care of for you."

"Still no security defenses set up, I see," he snorts as we pull out.

"I'm not putting surprise attack cannons in the front yard, Ironhide."

We drive past the lake, discussing the pros and cons of booby trapping Mom's new pool in the backyard.

"If we put eels in the pool, we can't swim in it either."

"But it's protected."

"Anyway. You want to chill at my place for a bit while they're finishing yours? Mom's got a new boyfriend that needs to know his place."

The seat underneath me rumbles with an evil chuckle. Be afraid, Tomas. Be very afraid.

* * *

><p>Woot! Ironhide bonding! I might twist this around... Not change the pairing, just twist stuff up a bit. xD Because I'm like that. Twisted. Anyway! Yup, end of the first movie. Might take me a while to get it up and going, but it'll probably just be continued in this story. The next part, I mean. I am SO excited about it. 8D<p> 


	8. Chapter 8: Watch Me Fall Apart

M'kay. Herein begins the two year break. I don't know how well I'll do, seeing how it's not canon and I'll try hard to make it work, but it is kind of an AU, so if I veer off, I regret nothing. xD

ALSO.

Disclaimer: I own NOTHING. A friend thought it would be smart for me to do these more often. xD

* * *

><p>"Hey, Rach. What do you got there?"<p>

I tripped in surprise and almost dropped the bundle in my jacket. Busted. "Sam, shh! Mom's in the house!"

"What more could you do to that poor woman after the mohawk?"

I glanced at the front door. The screen door was shut, but the big door wasn't. I sighed in frustration and ducked over to the fence, watching the door like a hawk. He leaned against the top of the fence, hose in hand where he'd been washing Bumblebee. "Kinda hot for a jacket, isn't it?"

"Shut UP," I hissed, unzipping the jacket halfway. "Or I'll show your mom where you stash your porn."

Sam sputtered. "You don't know that! You can't!"

"I can and I do." The bundle wiggled and popped her head out.

"Aw, lookit that face," Sam gushed. Loudly. On purpose.

"Samuel James-"

"Yip!"

"Shhhh!" I hushed the Beagle face and zipped the jacket back up. "She was wondering around by the lake, crying like a baby. I couldn't just leave her there."

"Bet that was a fun ride."

I looked down at the road again where my sparkly new red Ninja 1000 sat on it's kickstand. It was a gorgeous hunk of metal parked right behind my mom's complimentary silver Ford Fusion hybrid. My whole life was complimentary after the battle against Megatron.

"It was interesting, that's for damn sure." I waved over Sam's shoulder. "Hey, Bee."

The camaro revved. Sam slapped my arm down. "Don't make him do that, he's suppose to be undercover, remember?"

"Yeah yeah. I'll let you guys know how the begging goes."

I jogged back up the yard, watching for movement inside through the screen door. She wasn't in the kitchen. I tried to be all sneaky about it, but the door still creaked. I winced.

"Rach? That you?"

"No, Mom, it's Sam."

"Alright, smartass." I heard the smile in her voice. Good. Let's hope that mood lasted.

"Uhm, Mom? Can I talk to you for a sec?"

I sat in my chair at the table, one elbow leaned on the hardwood surface to hide the wriggling bundle underneath. She just wouldn't sit STILL.

Mom came around the corner in a pair of my jean shorts and a wife-beater, ice tea in hand. "Sure, sweetheart. What's up? Good Lord, why are you wearing a jacket? It's ninety degrees outside."

The puppy chose that particular moment to fall out the bottom of my jacket. She yipped when her butt hit the floor and scrabbled out from under the table, nails clacking on the tile. I froze and stared at her. "Uh..."

"Rachel Shawn. What is that?"

"It's... It's Jazzie."

"Jazzie?" my mom barked, high-stepping as the pup sniffed her feet, tail wagging. "You named it?"

"Her.. Yeah..." I rubbed the back of my neck, fingering the spiky blonde strands. Probably not a good idea to correct Mom when I was in a pinch. "I found her, I promise. I didn't adopt her. You can't say no to that face, Mom, you really can't."

Mom looked down at the pup and said, "No. Well, that was easy."

"C'mon, Mom! I named her after Jazz. Remember?"

"The car that died a few months ago?" she grimaced. Mom still didn't like to think about it. She didn't believe me even when Secretary Keller made a house-call to explain the whole situation to her. It took Bumblebee transforming for her in the backyard, and even then she exclaimed she was probably on drugs she didn't remember taking.

"Yeah, Mom," I pleaded sadly. This was my trump card. It was a little low, but... "You can't boot her out. And think about it, whatever damage she does, we won't have to pay for."

"You think she'll do damage to the house?" Uh oh. Mom's accent was thickening. That was never a good sign. "Rachel, you KNOW Tomas is allergic."

"So what?" I snapped. "He doesn't live here."

"But he WILL go into a sneezing fit whenever I'm around him."

"So I'll keep her in the backyard!" I hated that I had to dictate my dog's future around some self-important Spanish guy. He wasn't even all that great, sans the dimples. "Please, Mom? I'll take care of her. You know I'm still working."

"And going off to the military."

"It's only for six weeks, and it's just for the Reserves. I'll ask Sam to watch her. Mikaela's got a dog now, too, Mom. I," I started, then got down on my knees and cupped my hands together against the edge of the table, forehead pressed to my wrists, "Am begging you. Please, please, PLEASE let me keep Jazz."

Mom took a long, long gulp of her tea, eyes narrowed over the rim of the glass. Cha-ching.

"She stays outside. Don't even attempt potty-training, because I'll still end up with wet spots on my carpet."

"YA-HOO!" I screamed, swooping the puppy into my arms and swinging her around. She tried licking me to death, but I didn't mind. "Thank you, Mommy!"

"Go away. Don't she need food and water?"

"Right!" I kept Jazz held against my chest with one arm and opened one of the cupboards, taking an old bowl down to fill with water. "It's just until I can run and get her a water bowl, okay?"

Mom shook her head and retreated back to her Oxygen channel in the living room. I balanced squirming puppy and full bowl down the hall to the back door, where the wood porch was fenced in with a locked gate. The pool took up most of the yard now, so she'd have to actually be tied up in the front yard or along the side of the house, but I could figure that out later. I set dog and bowl down, and scratched the top of her head as she gulped the water down. "I gotta go, Jazzie, but I'll be right back with a big new house and some kibble, okay? Be a good girl. Don't shit."

She just wagged her tail, then went back to her water. It might take a while for her to get attached to me like Mojo was to Sam's mom. I jumped over the porch fence and dropped the six feet to the ground, then ran around to the front where Sam was rinsing Bumblebee off. Bumblebee's like the worst ninja. The camaro's frame shook like a dog to expel excess water. I laughed.

"Bee, come on, dude," Sam groaned, dropping the hose. "Work with me, alright? And Rachel, your obnoxious horse laugh is not helping."

"I don't have a horse laugh!" I shouted, throwing one of the rocks from the Zen garden at him. Ooh, the Zen garden. Guess Jazz couldn't go up front. He ducked but the rock hit his shoulder anyway. "Oh, hey, Sam. Can I get a ride to Petco?"

"After that abuse? Hell no."

"Oh, come on. Mom won't let me drive the car after Mrs. Mink told her I drifted it downtown."

"You DID drift it downtown."

"Against YOU and YOUR car." I came around the fence and wiped water droplets off of Bee's trunk with my jacket sleeve. Speaking of which. I slid the jacket off and hung it across the fence. "AND I didn't tell your mom when I got in trouble. Please?"

"No."

I turned to Bumblebee instead. "Bee? May I please ride you to Petco?"

The driver's side door popped open. Sam threw his arms out. "You're a traitor. I can't believe this. And you still manage to flirt with my car."

"I didn't flirt."

"That tone? That tone you get when you say stuff like that? That's flirting."

"That's charm. Don't hate. Now are you going to ride with?"

"Tch." He slid into the driver's seat and closed the door a little hard. I grinned.

"Thank you, boo," I gushed when I slid into the passenger side.

"Yeah, well you're buying Mojo and Frankie some Pupperoni sticks too just for that lip."

"Yes'm."

Let me tell you about riding in Bumblebee. It's like gliding on a wave of silky-smooth stardust through a sea of milk chocolate. Or maybe that was just the romantic in me kicking up.

Yes, I had a small crush on my next-door neighbor's camaro. I wasn't sure when I accepted that fact. Somewhere between realizing how much it hurt to see him in pain and the drifting session with Sam. Some people liked sleek hair and hard abs. I like sleek paint jobs and cannons. Who knew?

Sam blew it off all the time as just a joke. Mikaela got this look in her eye whenever he did. I hated that look. It made me feel like a seven-year-old again, with a crush on Justin Timberlake. Which I was never ashamed to admit before I realized he had to be gay after 'Sexyback', when I thought it was a woman singing.

"How's Mikaela?" I asked as we drove, reaching up to flick the 'Bee-otch' air freshener hanging from Bee's rearview.

"Her dad got out on probation."

"Oh, yeah?" I smiled, cuddling down into the seat. "Good. I'm glad. I guess. I dunno. Is that a good thing?"

"She makes it sound like it is," Sam nodded, leaning his elbow against the door and rubbing a finger against his lips. "I dunno. Guy sounds like a creep to me. I mean who takes their little kid to jack cars with them?"

"I guess if that's the only way you know how to make a living..."

"I guess." He sounded like he wanted to argue, when another thought hit him. He's too easy to read. He glanced at me, and I knew what he wanted to ask. I sighed and waved a hand.

He took that as an affirmative. "What about your dad?"

"Bee, can we listen to something?"

Bee whirred and Linkin Park's 'My December' played from the radio. Sam scratched the top of his head. "Look if you don't want to talk about it-"

"He's staying in prison."

Sam fell quiet, waiting for me to continue.

"My mom, she um," I faltered a little and strapped the seatbelt on. It felt like a hug, and made me feel better. Especially when it tightened a little, then released. I'm so pathetic. "The cops gave her an ultimatum when we showed up at the hospital for the fifth time in two months. Press charges or lose me."

I smiled faintly. "Y'know, it took her three whole days to decide what she was going to do?"

Sam swallowed and adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. "Slow down, Bee."

I hadn't even noticed the acceleration. The car rumbled. Was that a growl?

"I think she blamed me for a while. All those times I snuck over to your house? She was locked in her room, drinking and crying. Sorry I never told you. Things just kept getting a little bit better, y'know? So I figured it would make you uncomfortable if I told you anything."

Sam glanced at me, then floundered for a minute for something to say. "Well, y'know. Better late than never, right?"

I smiled and punched his shoulder lightly. "Right."

When we pulled in to the parking lot of Petco, Sam gave me a few minutes to smoke. I was trying to quit, really I was, but repression is obsessed with nicotine.

If any girls are thinking about getting a mohawk, DO IT. I never got tired of the stares. It wasn't like it was a full-blown mohawk, either. The sides were shaved down, but not gone, kinda like a pixie cut, the actual stripe on my head still long enough to fall in my eyes and get trapped by the frames of my glasses. It was a very girly mohawk. And you'd think a big city like Mission would be a little more open-minded, but. Whatever. I guess the scars on my shoulder and the pack of cigarettes popping out of the top of my back pocket didn't help.

Since Sam had the dog know-how, I let him direct me on everything I would need for Jazz. He clapped my back when I told him what I'd named her. He still made me feel like a guy, even with the D cups and pedicure. Had to love him for it. Even if it was a little irking that he didn't see me as a girl. Eyes only for Mikaela. A good thing, but come on. My hips sway when I walk. I wished Bumblebee was human enough to appreciate it. Oh, blush.

We piled everything in Bumblebee's trunk except the doghouse. Wouldn't fit. We took it apart and squeezed it into the backseat. I rummaged through a plastic bag and tossed him a large bag of Pupperoni. "There. For Mojo. He could grow some."

"Hey, lay off my Chihuahua, alright?"

"If I can punt it, I don't want it."

"You go around kicking dogs just to see if you want it?"

"That's right. YOU started it."

"Poor pup," he muttered, then slapped a palm on Bumblebee's dashboard. "Oh, hey, Bee. Guess what she named the dog?"

"Hm?"

"Jazz," I grinned.

The radio fizzled, then played, "I love yooou - I honestly looove yooou."

I was touched, but frowned at Sam. "I thought his voice worked now?"

"Only when he wants it to," Sam snorted. "Why don't you talk like a normal bot, Bee?"

"You really named it Jazz?" Bumblebee's metallic voice asked.

My grin widened. Sam took my flushed cheeks as a side effect of the day's heat wave. "Yeah. She's got a spot on her back that's shaped sort of like an 'R', and the first thing I thought of was 'rapper', which, y'know. Jazz thought he was. So Jazz, or Jazzie."

"That's kind of you. The others will think so, too."

I narrowed my eyes on the console. "You talk pretty fancy for a bot that 'lubricates' on people."

Hip-hop started pounding in the car. Sam and I both laughed. Things had been pretty happy since the big Mission City Battle. That's what I called it. A near-miss with Earth's very survival could put a few things in perspective. My heart swelled a little the whole ride back to our houses. Now we just needed Mikaela telling us we were 'such children' and it would be perfect.

I didn't want to get out when Sam pulled up in front of Mom's car. I loved every little excuse I had to ride in Bumblebee. I wasn't even going to entertain the idea that anything could come of a human/robot relationship. But neither was I in any hurry to get over it. It didn't feel right yet.

When Sam opened his door, we could hear Jazz baying in the backyard. Sam threw a fit.

"Oh no, no no no. That is NOT going to be an every night thing. You better fix that or I'll call Ironhide to come over and take care of it."

"Ironhide likes me. He wouldn't hurt Jazzie," I cooed as we walked around the side yard, me with the bags on my arm and Sam lugging the igloo house. My finger waggled through the planks of the porch fence. A big slobbery pink tongue went to work on it. "Hey, Jazzie-boo, did you miss me, baby?"

"She doesn't even know you yet."

"Shut up, hater."

I hated leaving Jazz outside that night, but she didn't bark. She was surprisingly good about being left outside. She was chained up in the front yard, opposite the Zen garden. It was a pain trying to find the perfect place for her tie-out. She couldn't get to the flower garden next to the house, but she couldn't get to the sidewalk, either. Bumblebee had spent the evening blasting us with different laughing audiences as Sam and I tried to catch her to actually put her on the chain.

She was fine for the next few nights, too. She seemed perfectly fine to keep herself entertained with the mass of squeaky toys and bone chews I bought her. I played with her between classes and work, teaching her how to roll over as I did push-ups in the front yard to prepare for Basic coming up in three months. Sam went on dates with Mikaela, hung out with Miles, all the normal summer things.

On the night before my nineteenth birthday, I was lying in bed with two fans on, on top of the covers in my shortest set of black pajamas, cursing summer to death when I faintly heard Mom talking in the kitchen. A glance at the digital clock revealed it to be almost one in the morning. I sat up and ran a hand through my sweaty hair, swearing and reaching for my glasses. What the hell was she doing up at this time of night?

I padded down the hall in my bare feet, stopped at the bathroom to pee as quietly as I could, then snuck down the wall with my back to it and listened. She was on the phone.

"What do you want me to do?" she begged quietly, and sniffled. "Nothing I say would work, baby. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I wish I could go back and change it. No, no, Brian, don't yell-"

I rounded the corner, enraged. "What're you doing on the phone with him?"

My mom looked like a deer caught in the headlights, sitting at the kitchen table with the cordless house phone cradled in her hands like a precious newborn. "Rachel? What're you still doing-"

"You'd change it? You'd CHANGE it?" I shouted, arms thrown out. "You'd let me go into some fucking foster home just to keep that bastard in your fucking bed?"

"Lower your voice and watch that language! I didn't say I would-"

"You just DID!" I laughed incredulously, eyes wide in disbelief. "You just sat there and told that bastard you were SORRY you turned him in for kicking your ass! You're SORRY he's locked up for terrorizing us! Are you KIDDING me?"

"You DON'T understand-"

"You're right," I said shakily, rushing to grab my bike keys and wallet off the counter. "You're right, I don't understand, and if it means being a pathetic doormat like you, I don't WANT to understand."

I shoved my feet into snow boots sitting by the doorway, grabbed my helmet and slammed the screen door against the house in my rush to get out.

"Rachel! Where do you think you're going!"

I didn't want to see her. Or that house. Jazz whined at me as I walked past. Bumblebee was sleeping in the Witwicky driveway. Or was. I didn't want anything to do with anyone at that point, my phone left abandoned in my room. I just wanted to drive.

* * *

><p>Oooh, angst. Do you think she overreacted? I don't think she yelled ENOUGH, but as was said before (I think), Rachel's the type to run and let it fade away. And yeah, I had to make her rebel enough for a mohawk. I've tried it before, and it's actually more girlie than you think if you get someone who knows what they're doing. Anyway. WOOT. FIRST NON-CANON CHAP. HIT ME UP.<p> 


	9. Chapter 9: Twins

Here.

* * *

><p>Didn't know where I was going. Didn't care that I was still in my tiny pajama set. The air was still too warm, and the wind whipping past felt good. I didn't think about my parents. I didn't think of my puppy, or school work or my job or friends. I thought briefly of Bumblebee, but veered left onto a random street at an impossibly dangerous angle to distract myself. Unrequited affection would only make me more miserable.<p>

I did let myself think about the military. Lennox and Epps had both promised to put in a good word for me, or Sam, if he ever chose that way to go. I didn't think he would. He still had problems with people screaming in his face.

It would get me away. It would get me far away. Far away from my mother. Far away from the prison that held my dad. Far away from Sam, and Mikaela, I realized with a pang. Far away from Bumblebee.

And Ironhide, and Optimus, and Ratchet, and Jazzie, and Miles' insane ass. Probably something all privates think about. The people they're leaving behind. My tentative little crush was still trying to find it's roots. Leaving so quickly would probably fray my emotions when they were still trying to heal from the Big Battle. But staying with my mom and her messed up little world was ruining mine before it even started. If nothing else, I needed an apartment, I decided. I didn't want to move away from Sam and Bumblebee, really, but it was either that or die a little inside each day.

And I called Sam the drama queen.

Headlights reflected in my left side mirror. I let go of one handle bar to look over my shoulder, although I already had an inkling as to who was following me. Sure enough, a sleek yellow camaro was tailing me ten feet behind. When I turned around, he flashed his lights and put his right blinker on. I exhaled hard through my nose and flipped my blinker on, slowly pulling over to the shoulder. A mini-van behind him passed by, the driver trying to watch what was happening and watch the road at the same time. Rubber-necker.

I leaned back and sighed at the stars, then cut the engine and headlight off and set the kickstand down. The helmet came off and was left sitting on the seat, my fingers running through my hair to spike it out of my face. I glanced at Bee briefly, then trumped up to the driver's side as his door opened for me.

"Alright..." I wiped a drying tear on my shoulder and stuffed the bike key into my bra. Yeah. Big girls have to wear bras to bed. "Don't forget to bring me back for my Ninja, okay?"

When I climbed in I realized how surprising it was to be inside the camaro without Sam. The two were usually inseparable. I actually really appreciated that he hadn't woken Sam up to come along. You only need one friend to cry on. Or inside, in this case. The seatbelt slid on for me while I was busy cleaning my glasses of the fog crying had caused.

"Oh. Thanks, Bee."

"_So many things I can't control - How do we make it better_?" the radio asked.

I smiled a little, leaning my elbow against the doorframe to watch the nighttime scenery go by. "That's what I'm trying to figure out, buddy."

"_Deep down inside, we all need the same things_," the song continued.

"I just need you right now, Bee," I said, then quickly added, "I just need a friend for a little while."

"_I can be your hero, baby."_

I smirked slightly. If only. He was trying to be funny. I appreciated that, too. Maybe a conversation with a radio was better than with an actual person. Emotions could get across better with a tune and a beat.

"Mom regrets keeping me," I said suddenly, regretting it almost immediately but needing to get it off my chest. "That's what the yelling and slamming was about. She was talking to my dad in prison. She said she was sorry that she put him behind bars.

"She's pathetic," I murmured hoarsely, then inhaled deeply to calm myself down. "I can't see wanting to keep someone who hurts you over your own child who's trying to love you with all she's got. I cannot - will not - understand it."

Soft music filled the car, Bumblebee staying silent and letting me vent it all out.

When I didn't say anything else, he started slowly. "I think.. your mother cares about you.."

His voice was much more robotic than the others, gravelly from the wear and tear his vocal processors had suffered, but it was Bumblebee. Part of what made him, him. I sat quietly and waited for him to continue, fingers gripping the seatbelt tightly in an effort to be patient.

"I don't think she's a terrible person. I think she is confused. Her husband is locked away and her only child is leaving the nest after an alien battle that nearly killed her. It has to be stressful."

My jaw ached from clenching so hard. "That's not an excuse."

"No, it isn't," he agreed quietly. "Sparklings should always come first. I'm asking you to be patient with her for your sake. You didn't see the way you were driving."

So he was worried about me, hm? A little warmth bloomed in my chest. "I can try."

"You have Sam, too."

"Yeah. I do." I rested my forehead against the cool glass of the window and planted a kiss on his window pane. "Thanks a lot, Bumblebee."

FWOOOOM.

... The hell?

I leaned forward against the steering wheel and stared wide-eyed out the windshield. Those were very familiar balls of fire falling from the sky.

"Bumblebee?"

The seatbelt tightened between my breasts as he hit the breaks and spun a quick 180 in the middle of the road. A little Nissan squeaked its horn, but we were already flying pedal to the metal in the opposite direction, where the fireballs were headed. I lost sight of them over the horizon, but the ground shaking and Bumblebee's struggle to keep us on the pavement told me they'd landed.

"Decepticon?" I asked frantically, leaning into the seat as we hit well over 120.

"I don't know."

Well great. Two of them against one Bumblebee. Because I had no doubt I would be completely useless when I didn't have so much as a pocket knife.

"You should call for Optimus."

"Back-up is already on the way," Optimus' voice crackled through the radio just as Ironhide pulled around us and took the lead. He veered onto a dirt road where two tall plumes of smoke were billowing into the dark sky a mile or so down. I stared at them hard, then swallowed. At least it wasn't a one-sided fight anymore.

"It could be Autobots, right?" I murmured, hands wringing the steering wheel nervously.

"Most likely." Bumblebee again.

"What're the odds?" I asked cautiously.

"... Fifty-fifty."

"Fifty percent chance we die, fifty percent chance we don't. Love it."

"I got this!" George Lopez screamed from the radio. We drifted around a bend in the dirt road and slid to a stop behind a bipedal Ironhide. His cannons were already out and pointed at the craters, which were only about a hundred feet apart. I jumped out so that Bee could transform and go to work if need be. I backed away to give them room, just in case the things tried the tackle-first maneuver that squad car had tried on Bumblebee a few months ago. I pity the fool who tries to tackle Ironhide, but the universe is full of them. I found this out about three minutes later, when the rocks and soil around the craters were starting to cool and two metal hands dug through the rock to hoist up the first bot.

"Ow, damn, man, you said this planet had soft dirt, man, not rocks!"

Huh. Didn't sound like Decepticons. They tended to be a bit more violent about it. Like, "FUCK THIS PLANET I'M DESTROYING IT. ROCKS HURTED MY TUSH." Yeah. Kind of like that. All angry neanderthal.

"You da dumbass dat wanted to come here, bro, not me," the second crater groaned. Two heads popped up in unison, each head looking up at one of Ironhide's cannons. "Oooh. Dis ain't good. Back in the hole."

The second head ducked back down. I tried to suppress the tic in my jaw that would have been a smile if the situation wasn't a bit serious. Now was not the time to be amused by a could-be Decepticon, though I was starting to have second thoughts about that.

"They don't sound like Decepticons," I said loudly, curiosity getting the better of me. My boots scuffed the disturbed dirt as I stepped closer. Bumblebee gave me a warning look that I ignored in favor of scooting around to see down the crater to the left of them. The head that had ducked down was attached to a plain metal body smaller than Bumblebee's. It jerked up when I peered over the edge, causing me to back up a step. I held my hands up defensively. "Hi. Um. Welcome to Earth?"

"'Sup, girl? How _you_ doin'?" The bot grinned.

I looked up at Ironhide. "I don't think it's Decepticons."

"Decepticons? Hellz no," the other bot groused and lifted his head again. "We's Autobots, man, don't insult a brother."

Wow. Internet again?

"Better safe than sorry," Ironhide chuffed. A panel or three on his arms moved and the cannons were suddenly much bigger.

The bot scrambled up the incline of the crater, shouting, "Hey-hey-hey-hey now, don't be so quick to judge, man!"

"Boy, whatchu hidin' behind a girl for?" the other bot yelped indignantly. "No brother o' mine is a pussy!"

I did indeed have an eleven-foot bot ducking down behind me. Oh, yeah, five-feet-three-inches of soft human flesh was going to protect you. From extraterrestrial cannon fire. I planted my hands on my hips and cocked a brow at the agitated Ironhide, thoroughly amused. "See?"

I twisted around, though, just in case. Like Ironhide said, better safe than sorry. I backed up two steps to get a good look at the bot and blinked. Was it just me or did this bot look a little... Goofy?

"You're an Autobot?"

"Correcto."

"You have a name?"

"Skids. Though some bots call me the Lady Killer. Grawr."

So not gonna happen, love. "I'm Rachel."

"Pleasure to meet you, miss thang. That bot hidin' in his hole there's my twin, Mudflap. Thinks he better than me cuz he got Ma's looks."

"Shut up, foo'. I tap more ass den a Jaguar." The other bot crawled out of his hole and slapped Bumblebee on the shoulder, side-stepping Ironhide when the pick-up growled. "We here to help wit yo Depecti-punk infestation, bro."

"You're a little late for that," Ironhide snorted, arms crossed over his broad chest. "We don't need your help."

"Hold on there, tiger," Bumblebee waved him down, speaking in some voice I couldn't place through a sports channel. "I got a feelin', that tonight's gonna be a good night-"

I clapped my hands over my ears. "Bee, please, no."

He shrugged. I looked up beseechingly at Ironhide. "You should probably take them to Optimus."

"Is that an order?" he retorted dangerously.

"More like a friendly suggestion. Bumblebee's gotta take me home, right?" I grinned up at the yellow bot. Leave the twins to Ironhide. I had to tell Sam.

He nodded and in a rush of gears was a pretty little camaro again, driver's door opened. Mudflap behind me nudged his twin. "I take you fo' a ride, mama."

"Get those sparks out of the gutter," Ironhide snapped as he took on the leadership role and stood between me and Bumblebee and the new recruits. "And for the love of Cybertron, find something to cloak yourselves with. You're standing in the middle of a cow pasture naked as the day you were constructed."

I'm still a little fuzzy on the details of Cybertronian birth.

"Optimus?" I inquired the radio as I slid Bumblebee's seatbelt on. Ooh. Innuendo. With a car. Creepy, yet sexy. Hm.

"I heard it all."

"Good. On our way home. Ironhide's taking them to the pre-NEST, I think. If he doesn't, y'know, scrap them first."

"Understood. Thank you for your help, Rachel."

"Just another day," I sighed with a smile.

Bumblebee drove me to my bike, still sitting untouched by the highway.

"Race you home," I yelled through the helmet, twisting the handle to rev him.

He took off without an assent.

"Cheating bastard!" I shouted after him even as I peeled out from the shoulder.

Closer to town he had to slow down due to traffic, minimal at this time of morning, but still enough to help me catch up. Caught at a stoplight, I inched the Ninja forward to give his bumper a soft tap with the front wheel. He gassed it at me. I smirked, and when the light turned green, was feeling good enough to pop a wheelie. It was the first time I'd done it at a stoplight and it went smoothly, which only heightened my mood. Showing off in front of the bot of your affections and pulling it off can make you feel deliriously happy.

The lights were all off again whenever I pulled up in front of the house. I seriously thought about spending the night in Bumblebee's backseat and sat there for several minutes mulling over it. Finally I cut the engine and stood, tugging the back of my shorts to get rid of the wedgie. Motorcycles are not made with pajamas in mind. When I tore my helmet off, Bumblebee was rolling slowly up the Witwicky driveway. His lights flashed in question. I waved and whisper-yelled a quick, "I'll be right back."

He took that as the go-ahead and rolled up their driveway to the backyard. I knelt to give Jazz some attention when she begged.

"Hey, baby girl, go back to sleep, okay? Mommy's fine." I kissed the top of her fuzzy brown head and walked around the fence after leaving my helmet on the porch.

Wanna know how I handle things at home? Ignore them. Avoid them. At least until I felt better and had my thoughts sorted out in the best possible way for me to win the argument. I made sure to dead-bolt the door, silently setting my keys and helmet on the kitchen counter. The boots went next, and my feet could breathe again. I shook them out as I tip-toed down the hall. Mom snored from upstairs. At least I didn't have to worry whether or not she was waiting up for me. I just wanted to sleep. Walking back into the house had brought the reasons I left in the first place crashing back down on my shoulders. Sam could wait till morning to hear about the new Autobots.

I couldn't help but think fondly of them. The twins reminded me of Sam and I when we were little. Optimus would probably want there to be a group meeting later that day to formerly introduce them to the rest of the team, Lennox and Epps included. I slid under the sheets and glanced at the digital clock on my nightstand. Three in the morning. I had roughly six or seven hours before Sam would wake up. Or rather, Mrs. Witwicky would wake him up.

The sheets had cooled during the eventful past hour and were delicious to curl between. I covered my head with one of the two matching pillows, and slept.

* * *

><p>Sam shocked me into splattering a spoonful of milk and cereal across the table the next morning.<p>

"Rachel!" he grinned through the screen door after an unnecessarily hard bang on it. "Guess what?"

"We added two new bots to the team," I monotoned, returning to my breakfast with a sniff. "They're twins and we're having a big party today to induce them into the Earth Autobots."

He stared at me for all of three seconds before his face fell in a scowl and he walked away. I started laughing. "SAM! Get your little white ass back here!"

He appeared in the screen again, arms up and falling back down to slap his thighs. "What? You and my car are having secret little rendezvous in the middle of the night. That's cool. Fine. Maybe I'll elope with your motorcycle tomorrow night."

"I'm telling Mikaela."

"How'd you know, anyway?" he asked instead of replying, leaning against the screen door again.

I slurped the leftover milk down, taking the bowl and spoon to the sink as I answered. "Mom and I had a little trouble last night. It woke Bumblebee up, and he followed me. We had a nice friendly heart-to-heart, and somewhere along the way, two big balls of rust came tumblin' down. Ironhide just happened to be in the area, too. We checked it out. It's probably kind of a good thing I ran off, then, right?"

"Uh huh." Sam quirked his jaw thoughtfully as I joined him outside. "What was the fight about?"

"I caught her on the phone with my dad," I grimaced, shutting the wooden door behind me. It was funny, but in daylight I wasn't quite so eager to show as much skin as I did the night before. Bermuda shorts and a fitted, powder-blue v-neck T-shirt with flipflops. Much more comfortable.

"She still talks to him?" Sam voiced the disgust and incredulity that I had felt ever since waking up that morning. I nodded as we walked down the sidewalk, both of us with our hands shoved in our shorts.

"I'm not really all that surprised. Pissed off, more like. I figured she probably was, I just hadn't caught her at it until last night." I glanced at my bike, suspiciously alone in the parking space. I wondered where Mom had gone off to before ignoring it. I didn't care at the moment. It was going to be a happy day, dammit. "When's the thing?"

"Ah, just whenever. We gotta go pick up Mikaela. Optimus got a hold of Lennox, who got a hold of Epps, who got a hold of the rest of the team to come and meet the new guys. Lennox wants to have fireworks, too. Since last week was the Fourth of July. He spent it with his family, so he wants to celebrate with us tonight. What're the new guys like?"

"I think you'll like them. Right, Bee?" My hand smacked down on his trunk. "I called in for tomorrow. Just in case."

"Oh, God." Sam leaned his cheek against a fist, leaned against Bumblebee's roof. Was it just me or had he had a little growth spurt? He had to be two or three inches taller. "You're not gonna get drunk, are you?"

"I didn't say that."

"You don't have to. What makes you think there'll be alcohol?"

"Epps."

"Oh?" His cheesy grin was back in place. Guh. What? "You know he's gotta be thirty-something."

I frowned and glanced behind him as Mojo hobbled down the driveway in his cast.

"So? What's that got to do with anything?" Realization dawned as I bent to scoop up the crippled Chihuahua. He went to town licking my chin while I glared daggers at his owner's shit-eatin' grin. "No. Sam. Not even."

"All I'm saying is he's a little old for you, isn't he?" Sam leaned his butt and back against Bumblebee's door, a knowing look gleaming in his eyes. Oh, if only he knew. "I mean, I'm not racist or anything-"

"He's hot," I nodded in agreement, loudly kissing the top of Mojo's head, then punching Sam in his sternum. "But he's way too arrogant."

Sam doubled over with a hand to his chest, gasping, as I sashayed up the driveway to his backyard with Mojo. "It's none of your business who I have a crush on, anyway."

"OH. So you do have a crush though?" Boy, he bounced back fast. His finger poked my shoulder, then my other shoulder as he whined. "Tell me. Tell me. I can help! TELL ME."

"Ohmigod, we are not children anymore, STOP IT." I dodged even as I laughed, setting poor Mojo down so he wasn't subjected to our romping around. It was like elementary school again, playing tag until one of us got mad and tripped the other. I ducked around the side of the house after tripping him and grabbed the garden hose off the wall. Bumblebee rolled idly up the driveway to get a better view. I winked at him, twisted the water knob on, and sprayed Sam as he came barreling around the corner trying to call a truce.

I burst out laughing at the look on his face. Bee's radio clicked on, emitting another laughing audience.

"That's it. I'm done."

I followed quickly at his heels, Bee's laughter trailing off as we slammed through the screen door leading to his kitchen. "Oh, come on, Sam, it was funny! You'd laugh if it was me, you big pansy. Hi, Mrs. Witwicky."

"Hell-o, Rachel!" Mrs. Witwicky was scrubbing dishes when she rounded on her son. "Samuel James, you march your keister upstairs and stop dripping on my nice new cherry wood floors! Rachel."

I tried to look contrite, but she wasn't chastising me. She came around the kitchen island and wrapped her arms around me with her wet hands held out to avoid making me look like Sam. He sniffed and tossed his head like a priss, then swanked out of the room. Baby.

"How are you, honey?" his mom gushed, then leaned in and whispered conspiratorially with a nudge of her bony elbow, "You guys enjoying the good life, too?"

"Oh, yeah. No more yard work," I grinned, slipping onto on of the island's stools. "Mom loves her garden."

"I'll bet. You know, you guys should try and get some of those big gold fish in a pond! It would be lovely with that rock garden."

"Koi fish?" I nodded as she went back to her dishes. I loved their house. It was warm and homey, not like the sparse white walls of my house. "Witwicky senior at work?"

"Oh, yes," she sighed and tossed a roll of her eyes over her shoulder. "He thinks just because the government is paying us to be hush-hush, he doesn't have to be a man and bring bacon to the table."

She went on about her husband getting lazy in his older years. I listened avidly as I asked for permission to get myself a glass of lemonade. The Witwickys had normal family drama. It was refreshing and I always felt more comfortable here than in my house. Mr. Witwicky was always arguing with government representatives on TV, Sam was complaining about something to his mom while she bossed him around about his chores and Mojo sat on one of his cushy doggy chairs yipping at them all. Speaking of which.

"I got a dog."

"I saw that! He's a little doll!" she giggled, drying her hands and pouring herself a glass of lemonade. "What's his name?"

"It's a girl, and I named her Jazz."

"Aww." She pursed her lips pleasantly and patted my arm. "How sweet. You're such a good girl. I wish I had a girl."

"You wish?" Sam snorted, coming back downstairs in a clean red band T-shirt and camo shorts. "You've got two dogs you dress up as girls, anyway."

"That's not the same," she huffed and waved a hand. "I can't put pigtails on a dog."

Her eyes clouded as her faced turned thoughtful. Sam jumped on that. "Oh, no, no no no, you are NOT putting wigs on the dogs, Mom, Mojo's got gender issues enough already."

"I dunno. Frankie's like the girl dog, anyway."

"Shut up, Rachel. I've got enough for people to make fun of without Puppy Long Stockings running around the front yard."

I ignored him purposefully and grinned at Mrs. Witwicky. "I think I still have some baby doll clothes that might fit him in the attic."

"Yeah, okay, no, not happening. C'mon, Rach, we gotta go."

I ran a hand through my spikes and glanced at the kitchen clock. "Yeah, alright. Spoilsport. Thanks for the hospitality, Mrs. Witwicky!"

"Come on over anytime, honey!" She winked behind Sam's back as he herded me to the door again. "Maybe when Sam's out with Mikaela, we could rustle up a cowgirl outfit."

"I have one of those!" I squeaked excitedly, thinking about my old Toy Story doll. Sam gave me a push out the door and kicked my ass with one of his Converse high-tops.

"GO. And stay away from my dogs."

I waved him off over my shoulder and walked around Bumblebee. He'd already started his engine when he saw us coming out. "I'll be right back, Bee. Gotta make sure Jazzie baby's all set before we go."

I had to refill her water bowl and lock my house up before we could get on the road. I opted to just ride along with Sam in his car. I'm not an angel, I'll admit. If there was going to be alcohol, I had no business taking my bike, because then I'd probably try to drive it.

Across town we stopped at a run-down garage not too far from Bolivia's. Mikaela's father issues were going better for her. He had won his parole, and was trying to start fresh for the sake of his daughter. They wrestled a loan from the bank and were working toward opening their own repairs garage. It fit. Mikaela could rig anything into a work of art. I had to remember to make due on my promise to come help them clean some time...

Sam honked in an obnoxious pattern as I climbed out of the passenger seat and slid to the backseat.

"Mikaela! Let's go, Rachel's got a date with destiny!"

"Shut your damn mouth, Sam. I do not like Epps."

"Can't be Lennox. He's married with a kid. Don't be a homewrecker, Rachel, listen to Gretchen Wilson."

"Oh my God..."

Mikaela's head popped out of an opened garage door. She gave a short wave, then disappeared back inside. Still a little dozy, I stretched out and sprawled across the backseat. Lot of memories in this seat.

While we waited, Sam tried to start up a casual conversation about my mother and I.

"So... How were things this morning?"

"I dunno. She was gone when I woke up. For all I know she went to see him."

He must have heard the 'drop it' tone in my voice. Bumblebee flipped to a techno-station that started pounding us with Cobra Startship's Hot Mess.

"Woo! Bee, you party animal!" I laughed, wiggling around in some embarrassing semblance of dancing.

"You gotta admit, my car's got good taste," Sam grinned, honking the horn in time with the chorus.

"I'M COMING," we heard Mikaela scream over the music.

We gave each other wide-eyed looks and slunk down in our seats.

"Wow. I think she's on her.. y'know..."

"Don't say it."

I shrugged apologetically and sat up, watching her walk down the pavement toward the car. I know I'm not ugly, I'm actually a little pretty, but Mikaela always looked like she stepped off the runway, even in her boho-chic. Jean cut-offs that made her legs go on for miles, a white cotton mesh tank top that almost covered the shorts, and a bright red bikini on under it. She had Grecian-style gold sandals on to top it off, a thick gold bracelet jangling from one bracelet with matching earrings. Her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail. I actually prefer her hair in a ponytail. Makes her neck look longer.

"Hey," Sam said casually, trying to be the cool hipster he wasn't and never would be.

"Hay hay," I greeted as she slipped into the passenger seat, tossing her big purse in the floor. "Wait, you've got a smudge..."

She offered her shoulder while I wiped away a grease smudge. She smiled tiredly into the backseat. "Thanks. My dad's had me scrubbing grease off the floor all morning to earn going today."

"Wow, you'd think..."

"Her dad doesn't know," Sam injected, backing Bumblebee up out of the parking lot and back into traffic. "Y'know. Keeping it as hush-hush as possible."

"Doesn't help that he's a retired felon," Mikaela smirked wryly, fixing her ponytail. "Important information to leak to a convict."

"He sounds nice enough," I piped up. Her dad had been out for almost a month already and had been doting on Mikaela ever since. I guess prison time works on some people. Who knew, right? I didn't.

Her face, from what I could see in the backseat, softened marginally. "He's been okay. We'll see."

* * *

><p>Well. I'm not happy with it. I was TRYING to wait until I'd had a chance to read the prequel comics, but I'm very, very sick of getting reviews and PMs that more or less threaten me if I don't update or abandon this story ''Like you did 'so and so'.'' Listen - Authors have lives. Fan-fiction does not make up an author's life. It's something done on the side for their own personal enjoyment, and to hopefully spread that joy by sharing it with fellow fans. This is not how I make money. It is not what will run my life. So if I don't update for a month or two, get the SHIT over it. I was going to try and wait until I had the chance to read the comics, as said, and see the second movie again to get a better grip of the twins' background so I can do them justice, but since people want to get nasty about it, here you go. You get shit. What I consider shit. You get my shit.<p>

To those that aren't like that and continue to be lovely and supportive, I apologize for the outburst and hope you enjoyed this shit, anyway.

P.S.: I call this place they're going pre-NEST. Because the real NEST is on some island near England or whatever and I can't see them making sudden flights to a remote island for a party. And I want to do the damn party.


	10. Chapter 10: Relax, Lil' Mama

I shrugged apologetically after the comment and sat up, watching her walk down the pavement toward the car. I know I'm not ugly, I'm actually a little pretty, but Mikaela always looked like she stepped off the runway, even in her boho-chic. Jean cut-offs that made her legs go on for miles, a white cotton mesh tank top that almost covered the shorts, and a bright red bikini on under it. She had Grecian-style gold sandals on to top it off, a thick gold bracelet jangling from one bracelet with matching earrings. Her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail. I actually prefer her hair in a ponytail. Makes her neck look longer.

"Hey," Sam said casually, trying to be the cool hipster he wasn't and never would be.

"Hay hay," I greeted as she slipped into the passenger seat, tossing her big purse in the floor. "Wait, you've got a smudge..."

She offered her shoulder while I wiped away a grease smudge. She smiled tiredly into the backseat. "Thanks. My dad's had me scrubbing grease off the floor all morning to earn going today. Oh, that's right. Happy Birthday, Rachel."

"Thaaaank you! Sam hasn't even told me happy birthday. But... Wow, you'd think..."

"Her dad doesn't know," Sam injected, backing Bumblebee up out of the parking lot and back into traffic. "Y'know. Keeping it as hush-hush as possible."

"Doesn't help that he's a retired felon," Mikaela smirked wryly, fixing her ponytail. "Important information to leak to a convict."

"He sounds nice enough," I piped up. Her dad had been out for almost a month already and had been doting on Mikaela ever since. I guess prison time works on some people. Who knew, right? I didn't. "I'm still not hearing a happy birthday..."

Her face, from what I could see in the backseat, softened marginally. "He's been okay. We'll see."

"Uh, so!" Sam tried lightening the mood again. "Happy Birthday, Rachel, now stop being a whiny blonde. Bumblebee, some tunes?"

About thirty miles outside of Mission City, between it and the Hoover Dam where all the drama had gone down, the USAF had set up the Autobots with a temporary set-up until they could finish some big plans on a bunker for them, which they were calling the NEST project. Or was the actual organization called NEST? I dunno.

Sam called their current residence pre-NEST. I know, imaginative kid, right? I called it the Tent. Because that's basically what it was. Three enormous white tents set up down a dusty road that the military team we had worked with against Megatron frequented. Others had been added to the team, though I hadn't been out to see any of them yet. College put on hold, Basic Training coming up, still working parttime and keeping track of Mom so she didn't do anything stupid, it all kept me busy, especially with Jazzie coming into the picture. The reprieve of having the government take care of her debt and bills hadn't lasted. I don't know why she wasn't happy. She had a boyfriend, though I was guessing he was more of a stand-in for Brian.

I guess Bumblebee wasn't too familiar with the place either, seeing as how he was Sam's guardian and stayed with him. Ironhide met us at the turn-off and led the way. It seemed a little too... I dunno. Just not enough for such important beings as these. But I guess the military was planning on making up for it. They'd better.

The dry air made me wish I'd worn daisy duke's like Mikaela, but I don't tan as nicely as she does, so.

"Optimus! Ratchet!" I jumped up and down and hugged the leader of the Autobot's foot. It'd been a while since I last saw them. The metal against my cheek was cool in the shadow of the biggest tent.

Optimus let out a gravelly chuckle. "It's good to see you again, Rachel."

"Ditto! I missed you guys. Ratchet? Not a charge addict now, are you?"

"Ah, no." He rubbed the back of his thick metal neck in the universal symbol for 'my bad'. He cleared his throat. "Welcome to our humble abode."

I glanced around. It wasn't dirt beneath my feet, like I'd been expecting, and the tents weren't plastic, like I'd pictured. Hard mats of what looked like a tennis court without the painted boxes were under our feet, the fabric of the tent being a heavy canvas that was used in actual military tents. The place was strewn with technology, one section wholly devoted to looking like a NASA control room. Mixed in with it, on the other side, was a lounge area that mixed open space for the Autobots with couches for the human teammates surrounding an enormous flatscreen that was longer than Bumblebee as a camaro. It looked like it was hooked up to not only a hi-tech computer, but a PS3, an X-Box, and a Wii. Of course. What else do humans do when we're bored? Read? Pff~ not after we escape high school.

"Wow, this is a nice set-up. Nothing humble to it."

Sam and Mikaela were swarmed with seven of the military men stationed with the Autobots, some not having ever met the savior of the planet. I wondered briefly why they didn't approach me, too, because yes, I helped, then noticed the way one guy, probably a few years older than me, gave Optimus a leery glance. A few other faces looked surprised at my willing touching of the big guy, too. That explained it. What wusses. Though, to be fair, Optimus looked just as surprised as they were. Did Autobots not hug?

"Bumblebee tells me you've recently welcomed another member of your family."

I beamed up at Optimus. "Jazz. Yeah. She's adorable."

"Thank you."

I blinked and flushed in embarrassment. "Well, y'know. It kind of fits. She's adorably full of herself, too."

He and Ratchet both chuckled at that.

"Hey, Rachel! These guys want to hear about your mad driving skills!"

I waved at Sam in acknowledgement, gave the two bots a salute, then ran over to join them. Bumblebee had transformed and entered the circus tent, Ironhide behind him. The whole setting gave me the same feeling that Sam's household gave me. I felt at home.

I glanced around briefly, then frowned up at Ironhide. "Where'd the twins go?"

"Hmph. The children," and he stressed the word, "are sulking behind the mess tent."

"Sulking?"

"Jealously becomes them."

I just stared. Optimus joined the conversation. "They needed to learn a lesson."

"The moronic brothers broke into a dealership to find 'wicked badass' disguises," Ironhide growled, arms crossed.

"Optimus kindly suggested a vehicle to better suit their positions," Ratchet offered, an amused smirk in his voice.

Sam looked up. "What vehicle?"

Bumblebee started laughing, grinding really. I grinned in confusion and mirrored Ironhide's arm cross. What was so funny? All military heads ducked down to hide gleeful snickers and coughs. Mikaela, Sam and I looked around at each other in confusion. What was SO funny?

Two seconds later we could hear familiar arguing from outside the tent. Familiar to me, anyway. I rushed over and swung the tent flap open, eyes bright. "Hey, guys-!"

I stopped dead in my tracks. Sitting in front of the tent was a lonely, beat up little ice cream truck. It was eerily silent with my greeting. I lowered the tent flap slowly, then turned and looked up at a smug Optimus. "You. Are so bad."

Gears and limbs formed in a rush of sound outside before the tent flap was thrown wide open. "Who you tellin'! This is cruel and unusual punishment, hoss! How we s'pose to pick up honies lookin' like this?"

Ironhide rumbled with dark laughter. Skids cringed a little, sidestepping to let Mudflap join the party. I think I was getting the two of them right, anyway.

"Whoa. Bro. Lookit the legs on that one."

Mikaela blushed under the scrutiny and flashed a nervous grin, fingers plucking at her shorts. "Hi. I'm Mikaela."

"Cool it, guys." I pointed a thumb at a scowling Sam. "That's Sam. That's his girl. And he's the guy who beat Megatron."

Their optics widened, and they both unisoned, "Oooooh."

"Sorry, bro. Won't happen again."

"My spark's already taken, anyway." One of the twins clapped his hands and batted his metallic lids at me. "By the shortie that saved my ass from ol' cannon boss."

Okay. So that was Skids. I was right. I plucked the shoulder of my shirt and sniffed. "That's right. Worship me."

"I'm Sam. Please don't flirt with the blonde. You know blondes. Makes their heads implode."

I punched his arm. "Shut up."

"Hey, now. Throwin' punches already, Rach?"

"Lennox!" Sam and the newly arrived Lennox shared one of those half-hug-half-back-slaps and shook hands.

"Sam, Mikaela, cadet. Nice hair."

"You can call me Rachel, y'know," I said as he hugged Mikaela, then me.

"You could take that ASVAB, y'know," Lennox smirked and gave my shoulder a smack.

I shrugged helplessly. "I'm working on it. I'm more of a coward than you'd think."

"Pain is just weakness leaving the body," he grinned, giving Optimus a salute and both of us girls little hugs. "You'll get use to it. Epps!"

"Isn't that the Marines?"

Lennox ignored me.

"I'm comin'. We off duty, don't you be bossin' me around, now."

Sure enough, Epps poked his da rk head through the tent flap next. "Someone wanna help me get this shit out here? Girl, the fuck did you do to yo head?"

I sniffed and ignored him.

Sam jogged out to help while everyone else bullshitted around, Lennox making a big show of relieving everyone from duty for the day. It didn't take long before the twins were flanking Mikaela and I. She found a safe place to stash her purse, and we followed them outside. It was actually a good location for something so top-secret. The NASA set-up in the big tent was for radar, both for keeping the perimeter secure and for tracking stray Decepticons all across the globe. The three tents were set up in a small canyon, the big tent against the back of the groove in the earth, with the bunker tent to the left and the mess tent to the right.

Someone started up music in the big tent while we scuffled our way through the dirt and towards the mess hall. I know I'd just had cereal an hour and a half before, but all the excitement called for something salty.

"Whatcha got back there, cookie?"

The hispanic soldier cleaning behind the metal counter pointed a soapie spatula at me in warning. "DON'T call me cookie, chica. Don't. What're you two doing in here, anyway?"

"We're here for the party," Mikaela smiled, sauntering up to the counter and leaning over on her hands in the way that squished her cleavage together. "You sure you don't have something for us, chef?"

I turned my back and bit my knuckle to keep from laughing. I had to love Mikaela. Had to. Maybe that was why my punk friends had stopped calling. They didn't understand why I was hanging around the beauty queen we had all at one point mocked in jealously. Yeah, even I had done it. And I felt guilty about it at some random points when I thought about it. That whole don't judge a book by it's cover? Too true.

We exited the mess hall with arms loaded with bags of chips and boxes of Cheez-Its. I already had one Cheez-Its box open, popping them into my mouth as Mikaela preened. She deserved it. The cook was tripping over himself to let us scour the snack pantry.

Mikaela was carrying two boxes of Coke with us. Somebody had to stay sober, I thought as we watched Epps and Sam slip into the main tent with a box of Crown Royal and miscellaneous containers of other alcohol. I could kind of see the point in a party. We hadn't really celebrated the defeat of Megatron properly, just visited multiple hospitals and slept a month away. At least I had.

"How're things going with your dad?" I asked.

"It's... going good." She stopped sauntering and smiled softly. "I never thought I'd see the day he didn't talk about the next big snag."

"Good. I'm glad. Parents should always be willing to change for their kids' sakes."

"What about... your dad?" she asked slowly, holding the flap open with one arm for me to slide under.

"What about him?" I muttered, skipping around Ironhide's big foot to set the armload down on an empty table. I sighed and looked up at her as she set the soda down. "He's never been much of a dad. So I don't really miss him. I didn't need a father figure to become a tomboy." I laughed. "I had to become one to keep Sam from getting beat up."

She smiled and bumped shoulders with me. "You're right. You jumped into an alien war without him. You took down a Decepticon without him-"

"Oh, yeah, I didn't help," Lennox scoffed as he walked by.

"Eavesdroppers go to hell," I shouted at him as he walked away.

Mikaela grinned, then turned back to me. "Not just you. We both did pretty well for ourselves depending on just ourselves."

"Amen."

We set up the bags and boxes neatly. It'd probably be ruined by some drunkard crashing into the table later.

"What about your mom?" I hazarded, figuring we were bonding and it'd be safe to ask.

"I don't know." Mikaela curled a lip and shrugged, dropping into one of the couches by the Mega-TV as the conversations around us buzzed. "She left me with Dad when I was still little. I stayed with an aunt while he was locked up."

"Lucky," I joked mildly, sitting on the arm of the couch next to her and glancing around at all the people and bots taking the time to just relax for once. "Did anybody bring fireworks?"

At the loudly asked question, several hands shot up, including Sam's. I blinked. "What? Where'd you put them?"

"They're outside. I kept 'em in Bumblebee's trunk."

I snorted and tried to cover it by turning around. I just got the very lovely image of fireworks shooting out of Bumblebee's ass. Yeah, it'd always be hard for me to act my age when I wasn't under threat of losing my life by a big Decepticon hand.

"HEY! Smoke outside!"

I looked up in surprise where one of the soldiers was pointing me out from the crowd. I rolled my eyes and slid off the couch, box of smokes and lighter going back into my back pocket. "I'll be right back Mikaela."

"'Kay."

I sat on a flat rock outside, a few yards away from the camp. The twins joined me. Oh joy.

"'Sup, lil' mama."

I flicked a wave up at Skids, then Mudflap. "'Sup guys. Behaving?"

"Slipped away from Ironhide and his damn toys fo' a bit," Mudflap huffed, dropping to the ground in a cross-legged position that rattled the rock under me. "Whatchu got there?"

"Cigarette. Human vice. Wanna try it?"

I managed to maneuver his big fingertips for him so he didn't crush it, then watched curiously as he took a drag. I had no idea Autobots could smoke. They probably couldn't. It took electricity to get Ratchet high. Something told me they were desperate to look badass in their ice cream truck garb.

He went into a coughing fit. Apparently they couldn't. I started laughing. "You would never be able to handle weed, bro."

"Shoot," he coughed, waving his empty hand around. "I can handle anything you toss at me, suga."

"That's why you coughin' up a circuit after one hit," Skids guffawed, managing to swipe the cigarette away without crushing it and taking a long drag that used up the rest of it. "That's how ya do it, boy. Motherboard over matter, know what I'm sayin'?"

I slid three sticks from the pack, then tossed the rest of the box to them. "Here. You guys have fun with that. I'mma go find Bumblebee."

"Oooh!" they cooed, whether it was at me or the pack of cigarettes I had no idea. Bumblebee was helping dig a little hole for the fireworks with Ratchet, setting up five holes in a row by just digging one finger into the earth a little bit.

"How much do we have?" I asked, standing with my legs spread wide and surveying their handy work. My eyes kept straying to the big yellow bot and my chest fluttered happily. Crushes are frustrating. No wonder I'd never had one.

"Almost everyone contributed," Ratchet supplied, smacking his hands together to dispel the dirt.

"We gonna set this world on fire!" Bumblebee crowed with his radio.

"Better not. Where would ya'll go next?"

"You'll have to forgive Bumblebee," Ratchet smirked as the camaro danced in place. "He's rather excited to see them for himself. The concept has only been showed to us through images and videos from the Web."

"Chinese ingenuity at it's best."

Burn. Sorry China.

"What about yourself, Rachel?"

"Hm? Oh, I love the Fourth of July. Patriotism all the way. Hope somebody brought sparklers."

"Sparklers?"

"Little handheld stick fireworks that shoot colored sparks. They're really for kids, but I love writing in the air with them."

"Rachel, Ratchet, Bee! Come on, we're doing a toast!"

"With what?" I shouted back at Sam.

"What do you think!"

"Coming!" I sing-songed. I looked up at Bumblebee. "Hup hup."

Bumblebee held the flap back for Ratchet and me to enter, where already the humans of the camp were in a circle around the snack table with shot glasses in hand. Optimus, Ironhide and the twins were already there, watching the proceeds in avid curiosity.

"Here." Epps handed me a shot, then wagged a finger in my face. "Lennox already told the others, but after tonight, we don't condone no underaged drinking." He winked. "Izzat understood?"

I saluted him with my shot. "Sir, yes, sir."

"Alright, everyone listen up!"

The buzz of conversation dulled as Lennox hopped up onto a chair to address the whole of the tent. He held his own tall glass of golden liquid aloft, eyes sweeping the room. "We're here for a few reasons tonight. To welcome new comrades-" He held his glass up to the twins in acknowledgement. "-To remember old ones-" he did the same action towards Optimus, who's optics narrowed and glowed. "And to salute the country, and the planet, we've all sacrificed so much for. So tonight, we remember Jazz. We remember the men and women who have died for this country. And we honor the Autobots, for everything they've done for us, for everything they've given up, to protect our world. Happy late Fourth of July, guys."

There was a chorus of ''OO-RAHS" and shouts and clapping from humans and Autobots alike, then everyone threw back their shots. Sam in front of me started hacking. I clapped a hand between his shoulders, which did more harm than good, as it was meant to.

"Careful there, kid. Don't hurt yourself."

"Shut-up-Rachel," he groused between coughs.

Mikaela handled hers smoothly, which was a bit of a surprise. I never would've pegged her for a drinker.

Lennox slammed his cup on the table as he hopped down and looked at the soldiers next. "Alright, guys, the other base won't be taking over for us until 0-18, so get back to work. Kids, just sit around and chill."

If it had been anybody else they would have protested. Like true soldiers, they all snapped back to their posts at the computer screens with muttered curses that were pitched low so Lennox couldn't hear.

I didn't know what else to do to pass the time, so I took another shot of Crown Royal, then commandeered the X-Box. Sam joined me soon after, practically glowing. In a good mental way, not the drunk way.

"Lovin' this interplanetary camaraderie."

"Right? Bangin'."

We played Call of Duty: World at War until he got sick of me knifing him in the back and moseyed off to find his shot glass. Guessing he wanted to look tough for Mikaela. Although, he has grown about two years' worth of maturity in two months. Maybe he just wanted to practice.

"'Ey, lil' mama. Got any more o' dem smokes?"

I tilted my head back, glaring openly at the twins. "You went through them all already? That was my last pack, you chainsmokers!"

"Yeah, but dey tiny," Skids said defensively, taking a seat beside the couch. "Not built right fo' a bot, know what I'm sayin'?"

I chewed my lip thoughtfully, then stood and motioned for them to follow me outside. "Come on. I'll show you something else."

I taught them Bloody Knuckles with rocks. Which, in retrospect, probably wasn't a good idea, because it turned into an all out boulder war that I had to run away from when they hit Ironhide with one. Optimus and Ratchet rushed outside at the sound of explosions, took one look at the scene, and glared at me.

I shrugged. "I didn't do it."

"I very seriously doubt that," Optimus chided, then went to catch Ironhide from blowing the ice cream bots up.

Ratchet planted his fists on his hips and looked down at me accusingly. "You're a bit of a troublemaker, aren't you?"

I tried to deny it and failed miserably when I started laughing. "Okay, okay. In all honesty, though, I didn't mean for Ironhide to try and kill them. I am sorry about that."

"Against my better judgement I'll believe you."

"Baby, I'm a troublemaker!"

I jumped a little and immediately felt foolish for letting a bot as big as Bumblebee sneak up on me. He was playing Akon's Troublemaker. I gestured him down to eye-level, which he surprisingly did, then smacked the yellow siding on the side of his head. Not hard, but enough to make him give a grinding chuckle.

"I am not. I'm an instigator. We have morals. It's a difference."

Six o'clock rolled around so slowly I called my other friends to give them the chances to tell me happy birthday. Sad, right? But like I said, they sort of drifted away when I started talking about all the hanging around Mikaela. It was silly, but I guess they were still stuck in high school drama years. I'd had a big robot battle to get to know her better. They hadn't. Only one of the seven numbers I called picked up. Tracy. And she wasn't too happy to hear from me. The last time we spoke it was an argument. She was angry at me for hanging out with Mikaela so much anymore. Tracy had a bigger grudge on her than any of the others. Her ex had dropped her because he just didn't feel right with her when his 'heart was stolen'. By Mikaela.

"Trace?"

"Rachel, what do you want?"

"Um, a happy birthday?" I joked and waved the nosy twins off. "Or maybe just to say hi? We haven't talked in two weeks, Trace, and we've been friends since I moved here in first grade."

"Yeah? Who's fault is that?"

I shoved the tent flap open and stalked out into the evening heat, shaking my head. "Yours, actually. You're holding a grudge over a guy who was a dick anyway because he liked a girl who STILL has no clue he ever even existed, let alone felt that way. I thought we graduated from all this bullshit two months ago?"

I could hear her growling on the other end.

"Okay, FIRST off, Jason and I were ENGAGED. Secondly, she-"

"No you weren't," I snapped before I could stop myself. I squeezed my eyes shut and ran a hand over my face. "Tracy, a 'promise' ring is a 'promise' to get engaged. And you were the only one who even wore one. See how I might not have liked him?"

"Uh, YEAH, that's what girls DO. Not that YOU would know." Her tone turned snide, condescending. Tracy was more like the stereotypical prep than she liked to believe. "YOU never had a boyfriend because of DADDY problems. I mean, really, it's no wonder you're hanging around Mikaela to make yourself feel better."

I snapped the phone closed and almost threw it. I'll be damned if I would let her ruin my day. She was my friend before Sam was, and knew about the beatings before anyone else. I HATE teenagers.

"'Sup, ma?"

I jumped and looked up quickly at Skids. He shuffled his feet and gestured at my face. "Who a bot gotta kill to make dem waterworks stop?"

"Wha-?" I wiped my face, and sure enough, I was crying. I lifted my shirt and wiped my face real quick, shaking my head. I hadn't even realized it. "Nobody. You're in enough trouble. Let's go back insi-"

I stopped when I noticed Bumblebee standing at the tent opening, looking a little uncomfortable, reminding me of how I used to feel when Mom cried and I didn't know what to do about it. I choked a laugh and ran a hand through my spikes. "Ya'll are sensitive. I'm fine. Don't you know women are emotional creatures? I'm sure Wikipedia has an article about it. Let's just have some fun, 'kay?"

* * *

><p>"Hey, Sam."<p>

"Rachel."

"Mind helping out?"

"Uh huh."

At six o'clock sharp picnic tables were hauled from the mess tent and dragged close to where the Autobots had dug holes for the fireworks. The table covered in food and drinks was very carefully added to the mix, and we were set. I helped lug armloads of fireworks while Mikaela entertained Sam with a mixed drinks show. He's such an ADD kid.

"Taken that ASVAB yet?" Epps growled at me when he caught up to the rest of the fireworks crew and dumped another armload. We were gonna be setting these things off for at least two hours.

I laughed breathlessly and wiped the sweat from my brow. "I'm gonna start calling you Mom and Lennox Dad. What're ya'll gangin' up on me for?"

"Cuz you a lazy ass, that's why," he muttered, smacking a big hand on top of my head and flattening the mohawk forward. "And hell no I ain't no one's mama!"

"Hey!"


	11. Chapter 11: End Short Respite

Short chapter is short. =_= Sorry. Been preoccupied, but I figured the end of this would be a little lame 'cliffy' to end on. Next one should be faster, since it'll be emotional and I'm loving emotional right now.

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><p>By the time the fireworks were finished off, I had Sam effed. Up. Just before everything started, Mikaela had given Sam a drink-drink, not just a shot. Crown and Coke. Which, as weak as she made it, was really the perfect drink to start him out with. I myself made a soda mix, Mt. Dew and vodka. One of the Airmen offered to include me in a game of quarters with tequila. Hell no. Tequila is the devil.<p>

Back on track - me getting Sam effed up. Sam was sitting on top of one of the tables with his feet on the bench beside Mikaela, watching the twins try to hit each other with fireworks that looked like roid-raging Roman Candles, with his drink sitting behind him on the table. I had finished off my vodka mix and gotten one of those small serving Smirnoff bottles all to myself - never share Smirnoff - and walked behind them when DING! lightbulb moment! His drink sat there, innocent as can be, with just a tiny sip taken from it.

Epps was sitting on the table beside Sam's. In the middle of a swig of Corona he noticed me standing there contemplating Sam's drink and my bottle. I glanced up over the rim of my glasses, pressed a finger to my lips, and filled Sam's glass back up with some of my vodka. Epps averted his gaze quickly as Sam took a drink, but my darling little neighbor didn't notice a thing.

A few minutes later I caught Epps doing the exact same thing and gesturing the other men to watch. Soon they picked up on the idea, even Mikaela noticed. Rather than rag on us like I sort of expected, anytime she noticed someone walking by she would distract Sam long enough for yet another miscellanious alcohol to be dumped in his glass.

The twins FINALLY caught on. Their snickering together alerted Sam to the fact that something was going on behind his back. He leaned forward to see them better and shouted loudly, "Sssah hell two you laughing at?"

I couldn't take it. By then I'd had a few more, too, and the shocked look on Sam's face when he heard himself slurr was priceless. I doubled over and hid my head in my arms against the tabletop to try and smother my laughter. It didn't help too much, predictably. But at least I wasn't the only one cracking up. All the Airmen who had included themselves in the joke were finding any excuse to not laugh, resulting in several of the guys choking and one throwing up. Apparently Sam wasn't the only beginner.

"Why's my drink not going down?"

Ohmigawd. I had just managed to calm down when he asked that, and was taking a swig of my Smirnoff. Y'know, it doesn't feel so good coming out the nostrils.

In the process of groping around the snack table for a napkin, my eyes predictably and all on their own found Bumblebee. He was standing about twenty feet away from the idiotic human group, watching us and grinding in amusement. The fireworks the twins were still battling with were flashing his yellow frame with blues and greens and pinks, and maybe it was the alcohol in me talking, but he looked… otherworldly. Ha. In the best possible way.

And maybe it was also the alcohol that brought hopelessness crashing down on my shoulders. Come on. How likely was any kind of relationship between a girl and her neighbor's car? And that wasn't what I saw him as. "Sam's car". It's just safer to think that way.

I didn't realize I was staring so hard until his bright blue optics flickered from Sam's drunken antics to catch me. I'm not such a great judge of character with Autobot facial expressions, and it could have just been the play of light from the fireworks on his face, but a few of the parts around his optics shifted and his whole faceplate seemed to droop and relax. I flushed in the dark, napkin pressed to my face, and finally looked down and pretended I was just grabbing a bag of fruit snacks. It didn't help that Optimus, standing closer to our little alcoholic gathering, had noticed Bumblebee's attention stray and was now standing straighter, arms crossed over his huge metal chest, eyes narrowed. I swallowed hard and returned to my seat, the laughter and taunting of Sam just a buzz in my ears.

Getting stared down suspiciously by Optimus Prime of the Autobots was scary as hell.

I covered it with more alcohol and felt better.

"Get offah me!" Sam yelped suddenly, "Goddammit, Rachel's the birthday girl, not ME!"

"You PRICK," I shouted, and was suddenly bombarded with the happy birthday song by a dozen or so drunken Airmen. Epps nudged my arm with his elbow. And when I say nudge, I mean he charlie-horsed me.

"OW, EPPS, YOU-!"

"What? Who's birthday?"

Now the twins. Oh, grieve. It's not that I don't appreciate it or anything, I'm just not… hyper about birthdays. We had never made a big deal of my birthday in my house, being that it was just me and Mom and her parents several hundred miles away. Little paper hats in grade school birthday parties don't count. All the attention was getting me flustered.

"Um, me," I said in a small voice, tentatively raising my hand.

"And you didn' say nothin'? We smoked all dem dang sticks a yours, too?"

"Congradulations, Rachel," Optimus intoned in his deep voice, mouth worked into a smile.

"Um, thank you, Optimu-"

"How old you be now, mama?" Skids. It was crazy as hell to suddenly be the center of attention instead of Sam. I was used to him being the one getting all the congradulations and slaps on the back. Even Ironhide begrudgingly gave his 'happy birthday' in the form of a grunt and a handshake that nearly crushed my entire arm. Ratchet was a typical gentleman with his wide grin and a 'happy birthday'.

"Nineteen. Nothing to celebrate for two more years, really," I grinned, trying to wave it off.

The twins looked at each other. I think Autobot twins have some kind of software that gives them that psychic link that people say human twins have, because they ran off in perfect sync and set off the grand finale with shouts of "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LIL' MAMA!"

The smalltown fireworks shows I barely remember from my earliest years couldn't compare. It might've been the amazing, overwhelming lights and sounds, or it could've been the second round of the birthday song in which the twins joined in and Bumblebee danced around to, but I cried. It could've also been the alcohol making me emotional. Yeah, that was it.

I threw my little bag of fruit snacks at Sam's face instead, screaming, "Want some fruit snacks?" and nailing him right in the face. Hilarity ensued. Once again I started a big 'throwing things' battle. You'd swear it was a kindergarten gathering instead of a super secret covert task force base. I squealed and ducked behind Ironhide's foot when a loaf of bread, unopened, sailed my way.

"Ironhide! Do what you do and protect me!"

"What's my motivation?"

My jaw dropped. Where did Ironhide learn to be a smartass?

"It's… happy birthday to me?"

"Yes, I suppose it is," he chuckled darkly, cannons coming into play and I had to wonder just what I had unleashed on the others.

I woke the next morning in my own bed and in complete shock. Because, you see, I remembered the 'food fight' calming down, and I remembered everyone piling into the big tent to conserve warmth, but I don't remember much of what happened after that. I supposed Bumblebee had been our designated driver, and maybe Mikaela got me and Sam into our beds safe and sound because the alcohol seemed to have NO affect on her whatsoever. But I didn't remember any of it.

I did have a migraine that could've put Satan himself in tears. I froze sitting up and carefully flipped my pillow over before lowering myself down again, intent on sleeping it off. I wasn't much of a drinker, see, because I threw up everytime, and um, I'm underage. The next time I woke up it was two in the afternoon. I still hadn't heard any sound to indicate Mom was home. But my stomach wasn't quite as queasy and I had to pee. Bad.

I moved ever so slowly to the bathroom, washing my face and brushing my teeth while I was there, and still heard nothing. My head still hurt like a mother, so I couldn't call for her without risking damage to my poor abused brain cells.

Excedrin. Need Excedrin.

The kitchen was empty, too. I peered into the living room, squinting against the sunlight outside. Still nothing.

"Might've gone.. to a friend's…"

Was she really that upset? This was the first time that any of our fights had gotten to her. Of course, it was kind of a serious subject, but still.

Since the Autobots had shown their big metal mugs and saved the world, the kitchen had become my favorite room in the house. It gave me the perfect view of the Witwicky's driveway. Bumblebee wasn't there. I figured Sam was better off than me, which sucked since the whole idea last night was to get him fucked up. I sighed quietly and scratched my stomach, finding the Excedrin in the medicine cabinet and pouring a small glass of iced tea to down it with. I ignored the pretty box on the table with a card taped to it. Still not too worried about Mom. I started to worry a couple times, sitting at the table with my head in my hands and trying to will away the migraine, but thinking about her brought my pain back and it completely overrode my worry. Let her rot somewhere. She was probably spending the day with her precious Brian, kissing and crying through a glass window.

And I was crying again. Which did nothing for my headache. I could not for the life of me understand that woman. I kept seeing little me in my mind. Little me, at seven, waking myself up for the school bus, fixing my own lunch so mommy wouldn't be bothered, skipping breakfast because my little fingers couldn't manage to fix both meals at the same time without missing the bus. Leaving little construction paper love notes outside her door before walking myself to the bus stop while Sam's mom walked him. Walked us both, really. Finding the same love notes deep in the trashcan every night after she got off her internet jobs and shut herself in her room again.

Crying so much I made myself sick, deciding for my eighth birthday I wanted a haircut so when I cried that hard I didn't have to worry about my hair getting in the way, because mommy sure as hell wasn't coming in to hold it up for me.

I slammed my fist down on the table. It wasn't until high school that she started acting normal again. It was no wonder I'd gotten so cynical and smartass, no wonder I'd never had a boyfriend. Look what a man did to my mother, and in turn, me.

The house phone ringing jolted me into awareness. I took several deep breaths, held, then wiped my face and stood to grab the phone off the counter.

"Hello?"

"Rachel Parker?"

I blinked. "Uh, yes, this is she."

"Miss Parker, I'm Dr. Mason Carlston with MTU hospital. I'm calling about your mother."

My heart stopped. I didn't realize I'd stopped breathing, too, until the doctor called my name a few times through the phone.

"Miss Parker? Are you there?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm here," I rushed, already standing and jogging down the hallway to change out of yesterday's clothes. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"It appears she over-dosed on some pills, ma'am…"

He proceeded to ramble off a full list of what they'd pumped out of my mother's stomach. I cut him off halfway through, sick to my stomach for completely different reasons than alcohol consumption. "I'll be there in a few minutes, thank you."

I hung up before he could say anything and tossed the phone away, jumping when it crashed on the hardwood floor of my bedroom. I stood completely still, eyes closed, trying to calm down and swallow the tidal wave of guilt that threatened to shatter me. When that didn't work, I shattered one of the mirrors that made up the folding doors of my closet.

"FUCKING DAMMIT!" I screamed, throwing the doors open and pulling on the first things within reach - an old Longhorns T-shirt and jean short-shorts, ignoring the crunch of glass under my socks. My boots were by the front door where I'd left them, helmet, wallet, cell and keys on the counter. I gathered everything up and flew out the door, not even bothering to lock it on my way out. I waved and muttered a greeting to Jazzie as she yipped, a short glance assuring she had food and water still, then swung onto my bike and hauled ass down the street, passing Sam in Bumblebee as I did.

I didn't even give them a thought. Mom was in the hospital. Overdosed. On pills.

And I had the very real inkling that I was the reason for it.


	12. Author's Note

Don't get excited! It's just an A/N. D: Autobot-Bre, I do have writer's block. xD But hopefully after Christmas it'll go away. See, my best friend IN THE WHOLE GODDAMNED WORLD has bought me the pre/sequels to the movies - something that'll help majorly in the in-between years. Unfortunately, she won't hand 'em over until Christmas. -.- She let me SEE and HOLD them, then took them away from me. -Sad panda.-

I daydream too much about Very Devoted Neighbor to give it up. Although the title may change with the next update. Just so everyone's forewarned. I won't give it away now out of paranoia that someone else may use it before I get to it. xD I'm suspicious like that. It's just a heads-up. That might help the writer's block, too. It's happened before.

Thanks to everyone who's stayed devoted - ha - to this fic and apologies for how scatterbrained the updates are.


	13. Chapter 12: Brother

Emotional chapter. But - BIG SQUEAL INSERT - My best friend eeeeever, sister of my heart, gave me my Christmas early. xD Reading them got the creativity trickling, hence the lack of major action, BUT, I didn't think I'd given much thought to the bond I keep hinting at between Rachel and Sam. It's _difficult_ to think of situations where Rachel and Bumblebee could bond. So I'm completely open to ideas. For now, enjoy the emotional humans.

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><p>I wasn't looking forward to this. Not in the least. Maybe that's why the ride was so short. It could also have been because I was breaking about ten different street laws and Bumblebee was honking at me everytime I was going a little too fast or cut a corner too close. My mind was blank - take care of one thing at a time, Rachel. Arrive at the hospital in one piece, check.<p>

Fill Sam in as calmly as I could in the parking garage - check. Pat Bumblebee's hood for being there, check. Start freaking out as soon as I was through the doors - check, check.

Sam grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze as we nearly jogged to the front desk.

"I'm looking for - "

"Rachel Parker?"

I looked up quickly at the familiar voice and rounded so fast on the doctor heading our way, I almost clocked Sam in the chin with the helmet I didn't realize I was still wearing. I ripped it off and impatiently swiped my flattened hair out of my eyes, rushing forward to meet him halfway. "Yes, that's me. Doctor Mason? Where-"

"First, breathe."

I clenched my fist so tight around my keys I felt them cut skin on my palm. I didn't _want to breathe. _I wanted to know how my pill-addicted mother was doing.

"Your mother is stable. We have her on a drip to keep her hydrated. She should be fine, we got to her in time to prevent any severe liver damage. But you should know that by policy we have to report any intentional drug usage and consequential overdoses to the proper authorities. An officer is with her now."

Sam was at my back then. I leaned back until our shoulders brushed. Stumbled a little. He caught my arm and slid his arm around my shoulders. "Can she see her?"

"The officer is interviewing her now. Her room is on the second floor, room 216 in the mental health ward. We have to keep her for at least three days, let a therapist evaluate her emotional stability. Depending on what we find out, she could be home by the end of the week, or she may need to be checked into a rehabilitation center."

As he explained, he ushered us to follow him to an elevator. Sam gently took my helmet away from me and pursuaded the desk clerk to keep it behind the counter for safe-keeping. I clung to everything Mason said, chewing a thumbnail down to a stub. He told me that the charcoal solution they had to give her after the stomach pumping was meant to coat her liver and protect it, but it also made her throw up what was left of the drugs, and that I should keep my visit short to keep from putting too much tension or pressure on her or whatever. She deserves it, I thought vindictively, then blew out a shaky breath, mentally chastising myself. Whatever stupid, idiotic decisions she made, Mom was still my Mom. The only one I had. And other than her long-distance brother and parents, we were all each other had (She still thought she had Brian, but I wasn't letting myself stray in that direction of thought). I needed to be here, mature and careful, to take care of her. Not criticize her. Not yet, at least.

Sitting outside Mom's hospital room, I wrung Sam's hand none-too-gently between mine, and he took it like a tough little trooper. I glanced at him through the bangs that had fallen back over my face, his face tight and blank. I squeezed my eyes shut in a long blink, then said quietly, "Thank you, Sam. For following me. For being here."

"You didn't run out on me when I bought an intergallactic car," he said in a hushed tone, shooting me a quick smile. "What kind of tumor would I be if I ran out on you for something as human as this? Besides, Mikaela's been calling all day and I'm scared of what I did last night to be made fun of."

I broke into a wide grin. "You really didn't do anything other than be completely, adorably oblivious to your surroundings. We did all the funny stuff." I scrunched my nose, focusing on the hilarity of last night's belated Fourth of July as much as I could. "I think. It all gets blurry after Ironhide started shooting the twins. Again."

He started to smile, then looked down at our hands. Mine were shaking and I didn't realize it. I pulled them away and rubbed my sweaty palms on my shorts, and he hugged me one-armed around the neck instead. "You'll be alright. She'll be alright. You and Mikaela are the toughest people I know, and that's saying something."

"Because we're girls?" I drawled, eyes rolling.

"Well, yeah," he mumbled, shifting uncomfortably, like he expected a fist to come his way any second. "Well, it's like, I don't know how I didn't freak the hell out when everything happened so fast, and girls are suppose to be emotional… Technically I've never thought of you as a girl, though."

"Stop before you dig yourself deeper, Witwicky."

We shared a sibling smile. That warmth in my chest was back. "I'm really glad you're here, Sam. You both. You're my guys. Sad how the only men I can count on are gearheads-" used this term for the Autobots for anyone who might be eavesdropping "- and my baby-faced neighbor."

"Baby-faced? Come on, you can't tell me you haven't noticed the fuzz." He rubbed his chin and pooched his lips out, trying to look something like the Thinker, I guess.

"Peach fuzz, more like."

The door we were waiting beside finally opened. I jumped up immediately only to be ushered back into my seat by the pugly officer who came out. "Officer Jennings. Got some things I need to ask you, Miss Parker."

I sat down again, bouncing my knee in agitation and answering all of his questions in clipped tones. I was getting sick and fucking tired of everyone telling me I couldn't see my mother but I needed to calm down anyway. He asked whether her drug use was a normal occurance.

"Not that I know of."

"Do you ever notice her coming home and acting a little funny?"

"We don't see too much of each other lately, she works at home, and I work at Burger King and I'm busy with college stuff and entering the Air Force and shit. I haven't really noticed anything different."

"Do you know where she was last night?"

"I wasn't home most of the night, so no."

"Where were YOU last night?"

"At a party. Late fireworks, and stuff."

"Alcohol at this party?"

When the fuck did this become about me?

"Uh, for the one's of age, yeah. Mostly us teens were chasing each other with Roman Candles and being stupid, y'know, like kids usually act."

He gave me a look, apparently not appreciating my tone. But I didn't appreciate his, either. None of your fucking business, can I see my MOTHER now?

"Has this ever happened before?"

My brow furrowed. "Once, when I was little. I'm assuming you know about that already and the hows and whys."

He grunted noncommitally and scribbled something on his notepad. I rubbed the crease between my eyebrows, feeling the headache coming back.

"How old are you, Miss Parker?"

"Nineteen."

He nodded like that answer satisfied some decision he'd made, then slapped the little notepad closed and stashed it in his 'utility belt'. "And you said you have a job, right?"

"Yeah."

"Good. I need to know you can handle things at home for a while. Miss Parker, I'm going to suggest to the court that your mother be admitted to a three-week rehabilitation program in Henderson. With you on your way to leaving home, I don't think it's a good idea for her to be alone without some kind of proper therapy beforehand."

"Okay," I nodded slowly, agreeing. I inhaled and exhaled slowly. "Can I ask a question?"

He nodded.

"Where did you guys find her?"

"A call was made to 911 around 3 A.M. from 62335, on Highway 93. Woman named Laura Terrance. Sound familiar?"

"One of Mom's friends," I grimaced. One that I had been happy to see go. A stripper with a bad influence who had Mom hooked on painkillers right after we moved here. Thank God Mom couldn't afford a lengthy addiction. "She moved out of Mission two years ago. I didn't think they still talked."

"Apparently, they do."

Obviously, you lard.

"Anyway," he waved off, "You're free to go in and talk to her. Got everything I needed. She's kind of out of it, I'll warn you now."

Thanks, _doc_.

"Alright. Thank you. Do you… need my number, or something?" Pained me to ask, because I didn't like him. Maybe it was just an aversion to anything in a cop car.

"Like I said, got everything I need. I'll be in touch, Miss Parker."

He walked briskly down the hall, tipping his hat to passing nurses. Like the uniform was such a chick-magnet. Gross. Cops. Gross.

Sam gave my back a careful pat, probably because the scars were still tender and he was making a valiant, endearing effort to be gentle with me. "I'll wait out here. You care if I call Mikaela?"

"No. Saves me the trouble. Thanks, Sammy."

I tip-toed into the room. Her bed was perpendicular to the door, pressed against the right wall. She faced away, lashes fluttering letting me know she was awake and staring out the window. She looked… awful. Pale, sallow, her hair sweaty and stringy, but swept up away from her face in a scrunchie probably donated from one of the nurses. The pale, faded blue of the hospital gown only made her look more ill. Dark circles rimmed her dark blue eyes. Her face had been washed, but not very good - mascara still smudged across her temples. I sat down in the stiffly cushioned chair next to the bed, clearing my throat, unsure what to say first.

"Hi, Mom."

Gee, what an ice-breaker. You can tell I'M a people person.

She coughed, but said nothing. I tried again, hands clasped tightly between my knees. "Doctor Mason said you were gonna be okay. Mom… Why-"

"Don't start," she snapped, but never turned to face me. "Don't even start."

I felt my temper bubble. "Don't start? You could've died-"

"Did you ever stop to think maybe that's what I was going for?"

"Liar. If that was what you wanted to do you would've just swallowed the medicine cabinet, not gone all the way to fucking Boulder City to see that stripper chick."

"Are you really in any position to chastise your mother about her 'friends', Rachel?"

I scratched down my wrist roughly to keep from snapping on her. "This is different. My friends don't supply me with a lifetime of pills to try and off myself."

"Thought you said I was lying?"

"Why the fuck are you being so childish?"

Her head whipped around so fast I thought she would break her skinny neck. She snarled, so hatefully I actually leaned back in my chair, "Because you've ruined fucking everything."

Her eyes were distant. That was all. This whole ordeal was making her delirious and grumpy. I clutched the hems of my shorts, swallowing. "Mom-"

"God, we could've been so happy," she half-sobbed half-choked, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes and smudging her leftover make-up further, turning to stare at the ceiling. This... was unexpected._ Drugs. Remember, just the drugs_. "We were going to _plan out_ a family. After he got a better job, and we were better prepared, and-"

"Are you-" I stopped, finding my mental bearings. "Are you trying to blame me for your unprotected sex?"

"Are you kidding, Rachel?"

I did not like the way she said my name, like she was discussing cancer. Dread filled me - maybe that was exactly what she was comparing me to. A life-ruining disease.

"We always had protection. I don't think Brian ever really wanted kids. I was okay with that. I had the man of my dreams. I was happy. So, so… happy…

"Then I got pregnant." Her eyes glazed. "He was so furious. It was my fault - I skipped my birth control a few days in a row. He knew it. And then I had to go crying to my mom."

Her chin wobbled, and she shook her head, lifting a trembling hand to rub her forehead. "If I just hadn't told her… God, I'm such an idiot. It's all my fault. I ruined everything."

"Explain," I demanded quietly, gaze unfocused on nothing. My heart was shredding, faster with every word she said. She wouldn't see it. I'd be goddamned if I gave her one iota of that satisfaction. She didn't say anything, just laughed, a hateful, half-delirious sound. I hazarded a guess. "Because if you hadn't told Gramma, you could've gotten an abortion and no one would've known. Am I right?"

She just laughed harder. Started tearing at her IV. I watched her thrash for several seconds, simply observing the mother I always knew I had, but pretended I didn't, then stood and pressed the nurse's call button on the side of her bed. Turning to walk out, I dimly registered the door was cracked, brushed past the three nurses that rushed in to hold her down. Sam was sitting in the chair directly to my left, fists clenched tight around each other. He looked up slowly when I closed the door behind me, face pale and eyes glittering. I smiled emptily. "Let's go grab something to eat."

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><p>Mikaela met us at Sam's. I carried a Taco Bell bag limply in one hand, barely registering I even had food. I wasn't… quite sure what to do. The façade was over. My little two-person family had crumbled. How does that even happen with only two people in a house? A four or five member household, I could see, with so many differing opinions. How do two people not manage to work things out to such a horrible degree?<p>

Sam must've given Mikaela the low-down on what he'd overheard on the drive home. I couldn't leave my bike there. I didn't plan on going back. She made a beeline straight for me and threw her arms around my shoulders in such a tight hug I wheezed. She smelled nice, even through my helmet - warm and sugary. I didn't want to hug her back. I knew it'd put a crack in my armor. I reached my free arm up to give her bicep a squeeze, then pulled back. She let me go. I walked to Jazz, unclipping her collar from it's tie-out. She rushed right for the front door and scratched. I let her in, then followed without looking behind me. I needed quiet. Alone time. It was almost embarrassing, how those two would walk on pins and needles around me for a while.

I called Burger King and quit. There didn't seem to be much of a point. I didn't want to keep the house, and even if I didn't pay the bills, our 'anonymous' donor would. I'd have to change that. The only thing I wanted right that moment was to rush my enlistment. MEPS was only two weeks away. I needed to be ready to pass the first time, and get my ass out of Dodge before Mom was released from rehab. I was infinitely grateful that our high school was one with a mandatory ASVAB for all juniors and that I'd passed with a decent grade. An 89 was more than enough to get into the Air Force, with or without my 'oustanding recommendations'. I had two weeks to lose seven pounds and be at my minimum weight to pass. Easy when I would have so much more free time.

Two hours passed with me just sitting at the kitchen table, watching Jazz chew through the thong on one of my fuzzy pink flipflops. After the first hour she'd given up begging for attention and found something else to entertain herself with, plopping herself over the vent next to the door and basking in the air conditioning.

The house phone rang, shrill in the silence. I jumped hard and swore under my breath, reaching across the table for it. "Hello?"

"Rachel?"

Surprise. My eyes widened. "Uncle Dyl?"

Jesus, I hadn't heard from him in years. Uncle Dyl, short for Dylan, durr, was a friend of my father's that would every once in a while check up on us. And by every once in a while, I mean I hadn't heard from him in four years at that point. Before that, there was a three year gap. It just kept getting bigger.

"Hey, it is you! I almost didn't recognize your voice. How've you guys been?"

I lit a cigarette, smiling a little. There was a Christmas card from him every year if not a phone call, loaded with at least a hundred bucks for me. I never got anything for my birthday, but Mom had joked once that he could even forget his own, he was so focused on his work and cars.

"Better. It's been… better. How's the car collection coming? Still picking up scrap from junk yards?"

"You wouldn't say that if you could see Boo now."

"Can't believe you still call it Boo," I laughed, thinking back to the old rusted hunk that used to be a fine-ass Plymouth that he bought on his one visit to Mission to see us.

"You named it! It has sentimental value."

"I was nine and said 'Boo!' because it was so ugly."

"Semantics."

It got quiet for a moment, me listening to his muffled conversation with someone else. He was probably in his office. Hotchkiss Gould Investments was thrivingly successful, last I heard. I wondered what possessed him to call on a business day. I had a feeling.

"Sounds busy."

"Wouldn't have it any other way. So, Rachel. I'm looking for someone who might give Boo the love and attention she needs. Anyone you know come to mind?"

I heard the satisfied grin in his voice. Dylan was never told 'no'. He was an arrogant prick, but at least he still managed to keep in touch and sound halfway-affectionate. I glanced at the kitchen window and smiled secretively. "Sorry, Uncle Dyl. I've got a thing for Camaros now."

"Camaros? That's not very original. Everyone's getting them." I heard him clap in the background. Must've been on his bluetooth. "I'm a genius. I know what. How about I fly you up, have you pick out a clunker, and pimp it out for you?"

I laughed, aghast. "You did NOT just say 'pimp it out', old man."

Fifteen minutes of banter later, I felt lighter. He reminded me of Tony Stark from the comics. Rich, full of himself, but with a humor I had to laugh at. I was finishing a second cigarette when I felt more than heard the uncomfortable pause at the other end of the line.

"So. Why'd you call, Dyl?"

I knew why already. He kept tabs on us, saying he owed my father for something. He'd been a big help during Brian's trial. We could never have afforded lawyers like those. See? He had his noble moments. He could admit when one of his 'boys' was in the wrong.

"How's your mother doing?" he asked quietly, the background noise that had been going for the past twenty minutes quieting. I guessed he'd gone into a private office, or something.

"She's going to rehab."

"Ah."

"You knew that already."

"I did."

It was quiet for a full minute, my good humor fading. But at least I felt more levelheaded. Less dead.

"Thanks for checking, Uncle Dylan. I appreciate it." I sincerely did. He wasn't anywhere near as reliable as Sam or even Bumblebee - he covetted his riches too much. But he'd called. That was more than my own father ever did.

"If you need anything - "

"Taken care of. I'm enlisting."

"Oh really?" I thought his voice sounded strained, the cheer false, but it could've been his own lesser opinions on the military. "What branch?"

"Air Force."

"Ah. Well, that's… great, Rach. They'll take care of you."

I had the strange feeling he wanted to say more, but he sighed into the receiver instead. "Well, if that's what you want. About that car-"

"I've got it covered."

"Come on now, Rachel, that motorcycle-"

"I got a new one," I smiled, fibbing only a little. "Won it in a raffle. Still a Ninja, of course."

"Naturally."

"I'll let you go. I've got stuff to plan out."

"Remember-"

"Call if I need anything. I know. Thanks, Uncle Dyl."

"You're a tough girl, Rachel. I believe in you."

Empty, common sentiments, but the words were nice to hear. I hung up feeling better. Only by a small margin, but still better. I showered. Ate a Hot Pocket. Cuddled with Jazz and watched an old horror flick. Then remembered that I'd left Sam and Mikaela just standing outside earlier. Guilt nibbled. I sent Mikaela a hurried text apologizing and thanking her. She texted back almost immediately, suggesting a girls' night. That sounded almost like heaven.

Almost. I glanced toward the kitchen and hummed. I sent her a text asking if tomorrow night was good for her, and for once in the past twelve hours, knew exactly what I wanted to do.

* * *

><p>I'm glad I double-check before I update. Almost the whole damn thing was in italics for some reason. Stupid thing. Anybody catch the cameo? :D I'm assuming everyone reading is nerdy like moi and grabbed a friend to go see every Transformers movie in theaters as soon as they came out. That's just me.<p> 


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